Smoke and Mirrors
by stryker131
Summary: Lieutenant B'Elanna Torres is ordered to report to Starfleet Headquarters for a mission where things may not be what they seem.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One Mission

It was October 11, 2380, a crisp fall day in San Francisco no different than most this time of year. The Coast Live Oak evergreen trees within the intergalactically-famous Golden Gate Park had already turned color; a sure sign of seasonal change. Reddening leaves contrasted with the Park's famous topiaries, raised flower beds, and the meticulously-manicured lawns occupied by numerous people out for a cool-weather picnic or walking their dogs. More than a few joggers dodged lovers strolling along the paths on this Saturday afternoon, holding each other tightly and stealing a kiss or two.

Today the air traffic was particularly active so no one paid much attention to the silver and red Starfleet shuttle that circled overhead. The rectangular object gracefully made its final approach to the Crissy Field Shuttle Pad just off Mason Street within the Presidio of San Francisco, descending from the north and then cruising west over the Golden Gate Bridge. The gentle deceleration gradually turned bumpy as the craft slithered through the ever-present up and down drafts that the bay area was notorious for. Still, Lieutenant Scott Grimes was able to control the pitch and yaw, turning eastward to touch down ever-so-lightly upon the designated landing pad. After a few minutes the whining engines shut down and a side door panel opened. A set of stairs unfolded and two Starfleet personnel dropped down to secure it to the fuselage. Crewman Zayra Cabot gave thumbs up to Petty Officer Third Class and Flight Chief Valerie Canamar who then contacted the pilot.

Moments later a slim thirty-one-year-old Starfleet officer appeared in the doorway, resplendent in the gold-toned uniform of an engineer. Lieutenant B'Elanna Torres had awoken suddenly from a restfully deep sleep, stretching her body as she waited for her stomachs to settle from what had been a bouncy descent. Still, it was so good to finally be free of the confined space that had dominated her month-long trip from Deep Space Nine. Flipping back her perfectly-coifed brown hair, those brown eyes of hers glanced around, once again taking in the distant but familiar sites of the more than 1500 acres that constituted the Presidio.

B'Elanna noted the tall and ultramodern Starfleet Headquarters building now occupying the former location of the demolished San Francisco Film Centre. Starfleet Academy with its expansive campus remained off of Girard Road and Lincoln Boulevard just as she remembered it, although when arriving she thought the buildings looked slightly different. To the south and not too far in the distance was the Starfleet Intergalactic Cemetery just off of Main Drive with its large traffic circle. And, of course, the massive Starfleet General Hospital was positioned near Wright Loop.

Weary from her trip and wondering why she was here to begin with, her troubled mind tried to also cope with recently discovering that her husband of eight years, Commander Max Burke, had vanished. His ship, the USS Equinox, disappeared without a trace just over four months ago. That stress, coupled with leaving her daughter behind at the space station, was more than apparent on her otherwise beautiful and exotic visage.

More than depressed, her tortured brain resurrected a song her husband sang to her when she was sick or just feeling blue. It dated to 2010; sung by Skylar Grey. It always provided words of comfort to her. Some of those lyrics came back now. _I'm coming home, I'm coming home, tell the world I'm coming home. Let the rain wash away, all the pain of yesterday._

"Lieutenant Torres?" A pleasant voice interrupted her thoughts and greeted the half-Klingon as she descended the stairs.

"Yes." Looking up from her highly-shined black boots, Torres observed a Starfleet commander wearing the gold braid of an Admiral's aide-de-camp. She rendered the customary hand salute, which was returned.

"I'm Commander Kristine Fernandez. Admiral Paris' aide. The Admiral wanted me to thank you for coming on short notice and looks forward to meeting you once more. He remembers you from the Academy and wanted me to tell you that you were a brilliant but slightly…umm…unruly engineering student." She laughed.

Torres grunted and managed a grin. _So true_. That certainly was a while ago. Having been born on Kessik IV in 2349, she had graduated with the class of 2371. Her husband Max was two years older, born in 2347, and his class was 2369. Like her, he had made it somehow although the two had often talked about dropping out. And it was true, about her being unruly that is. She may have been gifted but was also so rebellious. A scarred past from childhood abandonment by her father John Torres was part of it. Having a dominating mother Miral who tried to turn her into a Klingon warrior as a 'matter of honor' didn't help. Back then her temper always seemed to be on a short string, although Max certainly loved that scary Klingon side of hers, especially in the sack. Still, it was any wonder how she managed to graduate, given her then-volatile and non-compliant nature.

Looking around at the shuttle field caused her to chuckle a bit. Everything was so 'dress right, dress' according to regulations. Equal spacing between shuttlecraft was a given and every nose was perfectly aligned and pointed in the same direction. Pitot tubes were covered with safety flags in place. Skids were chock-blocked. Detailed personnel were policing up trash to prevent foreign object damage to engines. Security guards patrolled the area to keep the curious and unauthorized at bay. Everything told her that she was once again at those all-to-familiar grounds she once prowled for years. It was a bit comforting, she supposed.

There was so much order, however, that she just had to laugh out loud. As a cadet she often found Starfleet's rules and regimentation confining and dreamed of just calling it quits and going to Q'onoS to explore her family roots. That notion often took wings after having a few beers or screwing Burke into the throws of orgasm. But sometimes when they basked in the afterglow of physical passion she and he would lie in each other's arms and talk about their hopes and dreams and especially their future together after graduation. They talked about everything to include hair-brained ideas about joining a paramilitary group called the Maquis. That particular memory made her laugh. In truth, she had always looked for a structured purpose in life and that bunch offered it in spades _if_ you could survive. But now as a career officer she supposed that Starfleet had scratched that itch.

Being married to Max was the best thing that had ever happened to her. Traveling through life together with a man who loved her just because she was B'Elanna Torres was something she often thought impossible. But their marriage had provided the family she had always wanted. Pride swelled within her, for she had given him a beautiful daughter. She missed both of them so much.

"This way, Lieutenant." The engineer automatically walked to the left of Fernandez in deference to her superior's rank while she took in the ground crew now servicing the shuttle. Then one ship caught her eye, for it was parked by itself in the northwest corner. It was a beauty; a machine like she had never seen before. It was swept back, sleek, and obviously built for speed. For some reason it just called to her. _Probably an Admiral's personal conveyance or maybe even privately-owned_. What she would not give to take a check out ride in that thing!

The two officers strode across the landing pad to a waiting VIP hovercar, its door held open by the driver who stood rigidly at attention. B'Elanna knew she really should not talk with him but could not resist. To her there was nothing wrong with taking a moment to talk with enlisted personnel. So she courteously said hello and asked a few brief questions. He smiled; an officer had actually taken an interest in him.

The enlisted man saluted. "I'm Petty Officer Second Class John Chichester, Ma'am. Been driving for Admiral Paris a few months now. Before that I served on a Starship in operations. Seems like it was forever ago. Being ashore is a bit dull, if you know what I mean. But this is a good gig. No complaints, Ma'am. Thanks for asking."

"Starfleet Headquarters, John. Most direct route." Fernandez fumbled with her PADD, checking the Admiral's schedule and responding to inquiries from various section chiefs.

"Yes, Ma'am."

Paris' aide kept looking at her PADD but periodically tossed a fleeting glance at her back-seat companion. By her face alone she could see that Torres' mind was turning over why she was here. Kristine could understand that. One minute Lieutenant Torres was Chief Engineer on the USS Orion up to her ass in a major warp and impulse engine repair while the ship was dry-docked at Deep Space Nine. The next moment she was standing in front of ship's Captain and Commander Brannon Braga who informed her that she was being sent to Earth for an urgent mission. Right now.

At first she thought it was to help find her husband's ship but that was not it at all. This had something to do with someone she had briefly known back at the Academy, a Thomas Eugene Paris. The details were few; just pack and go. An Admiral awaited and a notoriously impatient one at that.

As B'Elanna was being hastily briefed in the ship's ward room she barely remembered Tom Paris. He was an acquaintance of Max's in the loosest sense, a cadet she periodically studied with or shared a pizza when she wasn't with Burke. Tom and Max did not get along at all really, the proverbial oil and water. They relentlessly argued over things and the Academy rumor mill insisted she had something to do with it. Paris thought Burke was not treating her properly or some other nonsense. Max had always regarded her with respect and tried to tell Tom that his relationship with his girlfriend was none of his business. Burke was a kind and gentle man whose nickname for her was 'BLT;' her initials turned into their personal joke about a sandwich of the same name.

So when informed that she had to leave immediately B'Elanna did what any dedicated officer would do when working on a major project: she protested. But the 'request' had come from a full Admiral for her _by name_ and no one was ever going to question that. That much she understood.

"So, may I call you B'Elanna?" Fernandez was looking at Torres in a matter-of-fact way while seeking to eat up the transit time with some idle chatter. "I understand you had a baby just over two years ago. Congratulations."

 _Miral!_ Torres wondered how she was doing, left in the care of her shipmate and best friend Ensign Megan Delaney. "Sure, Ma'am. B'Elanna is fine. And yes, I did. A girl. Miral. She's two and a half."

That memory caused her to glance at her empty ring finger. She rubbed it and cursed to herself because she recalled taking it off. _Stupid._ She had stuck it in that pot of grease on that damned warp coil access console so it would not slide off her hand and get lost in freshly-packed lubricant. _Left it on the Orion_. Hopefully Crewman John Dell would find it. He worked in Engineering so she would send him a PADD message. If he could not find it, Neelix would. That Talaxian trader had a nose for jewelry.

Paris' aide snuck another glance at Torres, watching her knead her ring finger but said nothing. "Pretty name. Miral. Family, I suppose. So when was the last time you were at the Presidio and Headquarters? Still like you remember it?"

Torres rubbed her forehead ridges and thought a moment as she looked out the window. "Not since the Academy. Definitely changed a bit. I noticed the campus buildings are greyer now and there are more of them. But memory fades over time. Not all of them are good ones, although I met my husband here."

"Commander Max Burke. So you haven't been back since graduation? I thought everyone comes home. Some return to teach and there are always class reunions going on."

"Not for us. Career demands took us away, Max and me. After my graduation we got married right away. Couldn't wait! Then we were separated for nearly a year while I went through basic officer training just over there in Draper Hall. After that, more time spent in specialized education and training in starship propulsion and systems. Then I finally joined him on Rebus Major; he was Deputy Commander for Operations and I became the Chief of Facility Maintenance."

She sighed. "Of course, none of my training and education applied to what I was actually doing. Typical Starfleet." _Chief of Facility Maintenance_. That lofty but misleading title the service was so fond of. More like supervising work crews unplugging toilets and fixing leaking pipes! Absolute scud work. Not the best days of her still young Starfleet career.

Fernandez pursed her lips and looked at her PADD. "It says from your personnel files that you both complained constantly and demanded a joint assignment to a starship. At one point you two were insubordinate to your supervisor, a Lieutenant Commander Robert Blackman. He dished out an official reprimand for you both. Then you and Max recertified the psyche and physical evaluations for extended space duty but there were no openings even though Blackman wanted to get rid of you two. After what, four years of Burke managing the outpost and you turning wrenches on commodes, there was finally the SS Texas assignment?"

Torres shuddered. _The SS Texas!_ God, that ship was horrible. "Yes. That…umm…flying maintenance challenge." _More like a garbage scow. So antiquated._ "A Starfleet-contracted freighter. We took it to be together and get into space, Ma'am. If we had other options we would have jumped on it."

"Well, we all have to do what we must to serve Starfleet and the greater good, don't we, B'Elanna?" She sent a message to Headquarters that she was five minutes out with Torres. "But from there you split up. You went to the Orion and he was off to the Equinox for separate assignments. A bit unusual with you being seven months pregnant at the time, don't you think? Nothing going on there? Personal-wise?"

An irritated expression emerged on Torres' countenance. Aides were such dog-robbing sycophant assholes, always fishing to give their boss information that never showed up in the records. Being whacked from her trip was not the best time to ask deeply personal questions and her testy nature was being poked. Her obvious annoyance came out. "Look, Commander, Max and I love each other. We did what we had to do. It wasn't fun and games being pregnant on the Orion and not having my husband around. No one should ever be apart from their husband and especially when you are having a baby, Starfleet or not. You know he had to take that three-year position because if you ever turn down command even once your career is over. And this is a Nova-class vessel we are talking about. An opening in Engineering will happen eventually. Ma'am."

Fernandez smirked but said nothing, examining her PADD screen for smudges. Torres was obviously peeved but then calmed down. "Sorry. To not know where my husband is right now…." Then she shrugged. "No offense meant but I'm tired and not my usual bubbly self today, Ma'am."

"Understandable. No offense taken." Fernandez made a quick entry on her PADD, turning it away so Torres could not see the notes she had written there. Her smirk, however, was obvious.

/

The hovercar arrived at Starfleet Headquarters without incident. The grinning driver dutifully opened the passenger door, thanking his lucky stars that he was not married to Lieutenant B'Elanna Torres. She required special handling and far more patience than he and most of the Alpha Quadrant possessed.

Fernandez and Torres quickly entered the headquarters building. Security officers Lieutenant Louise Dorton and Ensign Arlene Fukai went through Torres' possessions and scanned her lithe body. "Drop your bags there, B'Elanna, and follow me." Fernandez was already moving with her hand up and a finger curling to indicate the way.

Torres quickly followed Fernandez into a turbolift and up to the twenty-seventh floor to the command conference room known affectionately as 'The Fishbowl.' The door opened to reveal a large room with glass on three sides and a glass ceiling. It could be built that way because it projected outwards from the building, offering a spectacular view of San Francisco that took Torres' breath away. In the middle was a long table occupied by four individuals, Admiral Owen Paris, Captain Chakotay, Commander Kathryn Janeway, and Commander Deanna Troi.

Troi spoke first. "Welcome, Lieutenant Torres. We hope you had a pleasant flight? Please, sit down over there. Coffee?" She indicated that the officer should sit at one end of the table.

B'Elanna complied. "Nothing special, Ma'am. Long. A bit tiring. Could use a cup. What's this all about?"

"Introductions first, Lieutenant." She poured some coffee all around. Janeway held up a hand. "None for me, thanks. Never touch the stuff." She held up a bottle and shook it. "See. Water."

Troi gave an 'oops' reaction. "Sorry. I am Commander Deanna Troi, Starfleet Deputy Counselor for Rehabilitative Affairs. You may remember Admiral Owen Paris from your Academy days. He is now the Director of Project MIDAS." The Admiral nodded and slightly raised a wrinkled hand. Torres grinned sheepishly. As Rear Admiral and Senior Tactical Officer Paris back in the day, Owen had chewed her ass off more than once. "Captain Chakotay is an instructor at the Academy and once taught you tactics, I think. And this is his wife, Commander Kathryn Janeway. She is Starfleet Assistant Deputy for Personnel, Alpha Quadrant Assignments."

There were some pleasantries and leaning-over-the-table handshakes all around. Then Admiral Paris indicated he was taking over the conversation, for the moment. "I asked you to come here, Lieutenant Torres, because we need your help. What do you know about Veridian III and an El-Aurian scientist, Doctor Tolian Soran?"

The half-Klingon grinned as she recognized the code. Admirals always 'ask' but it really means 'Do it.' Searching her brain and coming up empty, Torres responded. "Nothing. Should I, Admiral?"

"No, and I did not think so. But I needed to ask. Let us explain. Captain Chakotay?"

The Starfleet instructor rubbed the prominent tattoo on his forehead and pushed back his black leather chair to stand up. "Thank you, Admiral. So, Lieutenant, this will require a bit of a history lesson. Know you are tired. Stay with me now. Drink more coffee." He activated a visual program that he embellished with conversation. "In 2293, this ship, the USS Enterprise-B, was on its maiden voyage commanded by the man you see there, newly-appointed Captain John Harriman. Also aboard was this officer, retired Starfleet Rear Admiral James T. Kirk, along with some other retired members of his former crew. At some point, the Enterprise discovered two El-Aurian vessels within an energy band, a gravitational anomaly known as 'The Ribbon' or 'Nexus.' The Enterprise saved some of the El-Aurians but Admiral Kirk was thought to be killed. He wasn't but was trapped inside and later found. You following this so far or are you nodding off?"

"Yes, Sir. I'm with you." _I'm tired but not bad-mannered like you obviously are._

"Fine. Just stay awake, Torres. One of the survivors was Soran. He was taken off a trapped ship called the SS Lakul. Soran is a very sad case. His wife Leandra and his children were killed when their world was taken over by the Borg. Soran escaped with some others aboard the Lakul and another ship, the SS Robert Fox. On the way to Earth the two vessels were drawn into the gravitational distortion, which crosses our galaxy every 39.1 years. As it turns out, the Nexus anomaly is fed by The Ribbon, an energy mass that acts as the doorway to it. Within that distortion time has no meaning. It is like being wrapped in a blanket of pure happiness. There he was able to recreate his life and live it with his deceased family, although it was pure fantasy."

Torres looked on with horror. How terrible to be feeling that much emotional pain to be living that way!

"Unfortunately, his dream abruptly ended when Harriman's ship beamed him and some others out of there. After extensive psychological treatment he ranted and raved to be returned to his endless daydream. His demands were unreasonable and went unheeded. So he spent decades trying to figure out a plan to get back and reenter that dream world once more. His concept came together five years ago."

"How awful for him! So I have something to do with his plan?" Torres was still trying to understand why she was here.

At that point Commander Janeway took over. "In a way, yes, B'Elanna. Soran figured out that if he destroyed two stars near Nexus, the explosion would alter the gravitational field and bring it closer to the Veridian system where he located himself. So years after he formulated his plan he began working with two Klingon sisters from the House of Duras, Lursa and B'Etor. They provide Soran with stolen Romulan trilithium to weaponize a missile and then destroy one star. But he failed to destroy the second one, the Veridian star. The Ribbon and Nexus moved but not far enough to completely alter its orbital path."

Janeway drank some water before continuing the story. "A year ago, Nexus enveloped the USS Enterprise-D, which was commanded by Captain Jean-Luc Picard. He was chasing after Soran. Picard was able to avoid having his ship being drawn into Nexus. While escaping its pull he discovered more survivors. Admiral Kirk was one of them. It took a bit but Picard rescued them, treating them initially on board and bringing them back to San Francisco. All have recovered from their personal fantasies. All but one." Casting a nervous glance at Admiral Paris, Janeway looked for another bottle of water. She drank this stuff like others drank coffee.

Now Torres became more than curious. "All but one, Ma'am? Who? Soran?"

Finding the bottle, she unscrewed the cap and took a swig. "We'll get to whom in a moment. No, not Soran. He was institutionalized for further treatment but has since escaped custody and fled Earth. We know from Starfleet intelligence that he is now working with the Duras sisters once more to acquire more Romulan trilithium. He again plans to destroy the Veridian star so he can move the anomaly to his planned entry location. But he has a problem. We are watching that area carefully and he knows it. So now we think his plans have changed. His best option is to not detonate a trilithium weapon but to get his hands on a ship, probably a slow moving merchant, and allow it to be pulled into The Ribbon and then Nexus. Once there he relives his fantasy life again."

Torres was shocked. This man was so hurt and so desperate. And evil. He was destroying stars and their systems without remorse. Billions of beings were dying just to ease his personal pain. And he was trying to hijack a vessel and maybe take that crew with him into Nexus.

"So why not just give him one? I know for a fact that there are enough junk hulks lying around waiting to be scrapped. I've salvaged more than my share."

"We thought of that. But there is a complication even if we did it. It would take a hell of a lot of flying skill to get in there safely without excessive damage. You see, B'Elanna, The Ribbon is narrow, volatile, and twisty as it draws a ship into Nexus. One mistake and you could be destroyed. Many ships were. Soran is a gifted scientist but no pilot. So as long as he is denied a ship with a skilled helmsman we have that much going for us. With Federation Council approval, Starfleet ordered a naval quarantine on the area. All vessels transiting near the Veridian system and Veridian III and IV in particular are on high alert and must be escorted by a Starfleet vessel."

Now the half-Klingon thought she knew what was going on. "So I have something to do with that ship and the pilot he wants? Is it the Orion he is after? Or did he go after the Equinox? Max is one hell of a pilot."

There were a few looks around the table and Janeway looked a bit startled, drinking yet another bottle of water. She was wiggling in her seat now, her bladder nearing overload. Water, like coffee and beer, could never be bought, only rented. "No. Umm…not exactly, B'Elanna. He's not after those ships. Your being here has nothing to do with them."

Now Admiral Paris was speaking once more, a bit of firmness in his voice as he drummed the table with his fingers. He _was_ an Admiral; command and impatience ruled his life. "You have nothing to do with any of that, Lieutenant. But you needed to know what happened to understand why you are here. You see, you have everything to do with my son, Tom, and his recent removal from The Ribbon and Nexus."

Torres blinked. Tom Paris? Now she was given her third refill of fresh coffee, which she sipped.

"Deanna? Explain, please, for Lieutenant Torres."

"Yes, Sir." Troi produced a PADD and handed it to Torres. "This device contains the personnel and medical files of one Thomas Eugene Paris, former Starfleet Ensign and…I…umm…." She looked pleadingly at Admiral Paris. "Do you want me to continue, Admiral?"

"Go ahead, Deanna. I'm his father. I certainly know the deal."

"Yes, Admiral. Okay. To continue, he is a drunkard, gambler, womanizer, failed officer, and former Federation prisoner in Auckland, New Zealand's home for wayward boys and girls. You will be reading his personnel and medical files but the abbreviated version is that he is an undisciplined malcontent suffering from psychosis who killed several of his friends in a joyride shuttle accident on Caldik Prime early in his career. He was charged with reckless endangerment of others leading to death, which carried a ten-year sentence upon conviction. He knew that so to avoid a conviction he lied under oath at his general court-martial. That led to his being cashiered out of Starfleet and the full ten years in the New Zealand slammer. Good behavior reduced his time and he ended up with other lost souls in a paramilitary organization called the Maquis. For two years."

Troi drank some coffee as she kept an eye on Torres. Those eyelids were a bit droopy but she was nonetheless hanging in there. _Good for her_. "One of their ships, the Liberty, became trapped in The Ribbon and was forced into Nexus. Paris was the pilot. From what the survivors say he was the only reason they were not destroyed in the turbulence. The Liberty took one hell of a beating but it managed to get in because of his incredible skill. It could get out, of course, but no one wanted to leave. Everyone latched on to a fantasy that they began to live. They have all been cured now except for Paris. He is still living that fantasy, one he fabricated. That is where you come in, Lieutenant Torres."

"You said he still is? Why? I'm listening, Ma'am. Really. Both ears." She nervously tapped her cup with a spoon.

"Glad to hear that. It has to do with Paris being an emotionally damaged man. A very troubled man." She looked at Admiral Paris who indicated she should continue. "He believes his father, Admiral Paris, does not love him. That is not true. In actuality, Tom was always treated with love and compassion. True, he was pushed hard as a child. But no more so than any legacy son or daughter with a senior officer father or mother preparing their children for a Starfleet career and the Admiralty. You are Academy, B'Elanna. You know this happens to the children of flag officers, as a matter of routine. They are always groomed for success. But Paris never accepted that and became a rebel without a cause, so to speak. Later he sought fatherly approval in life. But he lost that by becoming a discredited officer. The Admiral...thinks less of him because the Paris line of male admirals ended with Tom. Tom Paris could not face up to his own failings so now he thinks that he is a rehabilitated scoundrel who turned his life around on a Starship called the USS Voyager."

"Voyager?" Torres searched her memory and again came up empty. "No such ship exists unless it is being built right now. But I would know that. The Starfleet Quarterly always lists what is being contracted, the acquisition and build progress, projected launchings, and space trials unless it is black operations. Personnel assignment officers have to know because they assign crews by a table of organization and it affects recruiting quotas."

"All true. So Tom made this ship up, a way to create a world where he is a success story. He desperately wants to please his father, to have Admiral Paris be proud of him. So in this world of his, Tom Paris was Chief Helmsman and one hell of a pilot on Voyager under Captain Kathryn Janeway and First Officer Chakotay. He compiled quite the distinguished record as a Junior Lieutenant, although he relates how he was busted once to Ensign for insubordination and spent a month in the Brig. He even thinks that Voyager returned to Earth from the Delta Quadrant after being stranded there for seven years. Are you staying with me so far? Not too complicated?"

Torres hastily drank some more coffee. "Yes, Ma'am. Still here. Loud and clear. Obviously, he's a very disturbed person."

That evoked some nervous laughter and nods all around. "He is. And more than you think. Tom Paris believes that his time on Voyager caused him and the ship's female Chief Engineer to develop a friendship. A very strong bond, actually. It grew deeper over time and eventually they fell in love. That led to them becoming lovers. After three years of being together they married and later had a daughter. Tom's wife in this make-believe world of his is…you."

Torres spat out her coffee and some of it went up her nose. She hastily wiped off her tunic and Troi handed her a napkin. "Sorry…what! His wife? And me having a child with him? He _is_ crazy! Why the hell would he even think that? We barely knew each other at the Academy. He was a senior when I was a freshman. I think I had an engineering class with him but we were just friends socially and never close. How can he even think that?" Torres was angry and hurt, clenching and unclenching her right fist.

Deanna shook her head, as she took the sopping wet napkin from Torres and tossed into a disposal. "We don't know. You obviously made an impression upon him at some point. But you are also the key to his recovery. Unlike all the other patients who came out of Nexus, Tom Paris has not responded to treatment of any kind."

"But you said all the others recovered. And Soran was married once and he responded enough to know he wants to go back. I am sure a few of those survivors dreamed about their spouses, as well. Why not Paris? I'm not even married to him."

"You nailed it on the head. Why not Paris? The critical question. As a professional Betazoid counselor I can tell you it is because he just won't let go of you. In Soran's world, his wife was dead and he already had let go of her until he encountered Nexus. None of the others were married, although a few were divorced. You see, Tom Paris' entire world is _you_. He knows you are alive; he says that constantly. So you are a conduit in his mind, a way for him to remain connected to this fake reality of his. As long as he thinks he is married to you he has, how should I put it…." She was tapping the table looking for the right words.

"...a reason to live. I give him a reason to live." Torres finished Troi's thought out loud. She had no idea why. It just came out.

Troi stopping tapping and blinked; the shocked look on her face more than obvious. A few of the others sitting at the table shifted nervously. But Admiral Paris was nodding his head in agreement.

"Ma'am, what did I say?" Torres quickly picked up that what she had said struck a nerve.

Troi moistened her lips and gathered her thoughts. "Umm…Tom Paris has said those exact same words to us over and over in therapy. He did talk of suicide once when he accused us of keeping you from him. We do not think he was serious but he is under constant watch now. He has never left the hospital building because he is a threat to himself, not just others."

She waited for that to sink in. Torres could not believe what she was hearing. Tom Paris was truly messed up.

"But you _are_ his reason to live, B'Elanna, in his fabricated world. And someone else who is very dear to him is also a motive. Not only does he stubbornly insist that you are his wife, he claims he has a daughter whose name is Miral. That _is_ the name of your daughter, isn't it?"

Torres nodded in amazement at the coincidence. "Yes. Miral." As she thought of her daughter an image came to mind. She was holding an infant Miral and breastfeeding her. All of a sudden she could feel the comforting and loving arm of her husband around her shoulders and she nuzzled into him, taking in his scent. But that was not possible. Max had never met his daughter yet. Merely wishful thinking on her part.

Now she rubbed her empty ring finger and part of that song again filled her thoughts. _Still far away from where I belong. But it's always darkest before the dawn. So you can doubt. And you can hate. But I know no matter what it takes. I'm coming home, I'm coming home…._

"Lieutenant Torres?"

She shook her head to clear it. "Sorry, Ma'am. Just tired. But how would he know about Miral…?"

"Another curious question but one simply answered this time. We know he accessed a computer terminal for several hours aboard the Enterprise-D. He was caught looking at Starfleet Academy personnel files of past classmates, student acquaintances, and friends. Apparently he found yours. It's all there; that you are married to Max Burke and have a daughter, Miral. He did that more than ten months ago. But all that did was reinforce his fantasy. He denies that you are married to Burke and insists Max is…well, I'll just leave it at that."

Torres' chewed this over and over as she assessed her current situation. Her husband, Max, is missing. Because of this jerk Paris she is separated from her almost three-year-old daughter who needs her. And now this lunatic thinks he is her mate. _This is absolutely nuts!_ All she ever wanted to be was a Starfleet officer and engineer aboard a Starship, living a normal life in space with a careerist husband and children who loved her.

"So what do I do about it?"

Everyone looked at Admiral Paris who raised a finger and the table group clammed up. "I got this. In my career to date, Lieutenant, I have always been honest with people. So I will be that way with you." He leaned forward, hands clasped. "If it was up to me, I would just let him rot in his personal heaven."

Several mouths dropped. As a parent, Torres was stunned.

Paris wiped his face. "Sure, I was glad to see him when he came back from Nexus. But as I told Commander Troi and Doctor Beverly Crusher at the time, just let Tommy live in that world of his creation. He became content, I suppose. That was the way it was for several months. But then, well, there is…Julia. She's my wife and cries constantly over this situation. Julia wants our son back, warts and all. As do his older sisters, Moira and Kathleen, and their husbands and children. Tom's nieces and nephews actually like him. They think their Uncle Tommy is…what is the term they use? Oh, yes. Deft."

From Academy days Torres knew Admiral Paris was not the fuzziest person on the planet. But how could he care so little about his own son? Okay, some parents were like that, she supposed. And many kids despised their father or mother, even as adults. In this case, however, she knew there was more here. She was no legacy but Tom was. They were right about legacies. Being one opened a lot of career path secret back channels but it also meant great responsibility. Tom had failed his father by not living up to that burden, unlike all those men in his family who had come before him.

"And that is not all. Tom is my _only_ son. If he stays this way, insane, the Paris bloodline ends. There will never be a male Paris to continue it because I have no male siblings. I, we as a family, need him to marry a woman and produce a legitimate male heir. If that does not happen he _fails_ to maintain a Starfleet and naval tradition of male service tracing to when Ensign Jedidiah Paris served on the first USS Enterprise in 1799 and fought Barbary pirates off of Tripoli in 1801. If you can open Tommy's mind then maybe, just maybe, he will eventually find someone, get married, and have male kids who will join Starfleet. But maybe that is my fantasy. As if any woman would actually have him."

The room was deathly quiet. No one dared speak right now.

Owen looked straight at Torres and continued. "Okay, this all sounds harsh. But having a son like him is a father's biggest disappointment. We've talked this over at length, Julia and the girls and me. So I, we, am willing to give this one more shot. Deanna believes that the last chance to bring Tom back to reality is to have you interact with him, not as his wife but as a concerned friend. To convince my…son…that you are not married to each other. To have him confront the truth in person so he will let go of you. Once that happens, his mental conduit with Nexus will break. He should recover and hopefully get on with his life."

Troi nodded in agreement. "He has a poor prognosis right now but with this method he has a very good chance, Admiral. We have used this technique with divorced Nexus patients who stubbornly thought they were married or in other relationships. It took a bit of time but it did work eventually, even though in this case he is married to you, Lieutenant Torres, only in his mind."

Now Commander Janeway chimed in. "B'Elanna, you have been temporarily assigned duty here and have been placed on a leave of absence from the Orion. It isn't going anywhere anyway. That engine overhaul should take maybe seven or eight months to finish as it is. True?"

Torres shook her head. "No, Ma'am. It was nearly completed when I left. We just got impulse drive back and it is ready for trials under load. And for warp, all that remains is to replace…." Something made her stop in mid-sentence as she watched everyone suddenly become very interested. "No, sorry, I made a mistake now. Silly me. I must really be tired. It will take that long to just fabricate parts for the warp coils and plasma inductors. The depots are backlogged with orders and the Orion is a third-priority vessel. But I am very concerned about Miral. I don't want to be separated from her for long."

Janeway was tellingly compassionate. "We understand, B'Elanna. She is in good hands right now, as you know. Once MIDAS comes back online you can speak with her. Starfleet does not approve of transporting two-year-olds unescorted without a parent but I will look into options to bring her here and send the request through my superior and normal comms channels. I know that the USS Marengo is due at Deep Space Nine in a month. Captain Merri Howard will be returning here once the mission is completed. Maybe we can arrange for Miral to come with her. No promises but I will check. Okay, B'Elanna?"

Torres nodded with some relief. "Thanks, Ma'am. It would ease my anxiety a bit. Especially now, with Max missing. What next?"

Everyone looked back at Commander Troi who took over the conversation. "Read over Paris' records. Learn what you can about what he thinks is his past and the life he has with you. Then you will observe him for a while without his knowledge to evaluate his behavior patterns. Once we determine that you have a good idea about how to best engage him, therapy will begin. Several short sessions at first to win his confidence and then longer ones to convince him that he is not married to you. Once he accepts that then we turn him over to our professional staff to complete his recovery. You go back to the Orion and Miral, if she is still not with you. Questions?"

"A few, for now. What if he doesn't? Accept the truth, I mean."

That occasioned some nervous coughing around the table. Troi was a bit perturbed but a question was a question and there was nothing classified about what she was asking. "Well, we really do not want to discuss those options right now. But you did ask. There is a relatively safe invasive… _intervention_ rather …similar to the old and now illegal frontal lobotomy."

"You said 'invasive intervention.' Isn't that just medical mumbo jumbo for a surgical operation?"

Troi offered an unauthentic smile. It seemed she was always being tolerant of non-medical people asking questions. "You understand repairing unruly engines with bad parts, Lieutenant. Think of it that way. Paris often becomes violent due to his frustration. So a partial personality separation _procedure_ would make him more docile and open his mind to being a bit more…receptive…to treatment. If that doesn't work then he would have to be…umm…sent to Talus IX colony. But we are confident that those actions will not be required."

"I see. In other words, you are going to mess with his brain. If that doesn't work he will be institutionalized away from family and friends." This was appalling but beyond her control. "Any news about my husband?"

Janeway nonchalantly flipped through her PADD. "Nothing. But we do know that the Equinox went into the Delta Quadrant for an undisclosed mission. Given the evasive reaction of Vice Admiral Quizzlink in Starfleet operations when we inquired, a black operation is the most likely scenario. That also explains why there is no contact with the Equinox. Captain Chakotay, my husband I mean, has contacts within that community so he is checking on it, as much as he can. You will be the first to know if we discover anything. Any other questions?"

Torres shook her head. "No. Not at this point, Commander. Maybe once I go over everything regarding Tommy. And I really would like to see Miral as soon as possible. How can I notify the Orion that I'm okay?"

Janeway suddenly frowned a bit, cogitating what she had just heard. _She called him Tommy! Well, Owen Paris used that term for him so it probably just stuck in there. And she is very exhausted._ Then she smiled. "Already taken care of. They were informed through normal channels. Your Captain sends his regards and said your duties have been covered by Lieutenant Carey." After pressing a button a Starfleet lieutenant commander walked in, wearing the red uniform of an operations officer.

"This is Lieutenant Commander Harry Kim, B'Elanna. He works as a graduate teaching assistant for Captain Chakotay at the Academy. Harry knows Tom Paris pretty well and can answer most questions of a personal nature regarding him. In the meantime, he will show you to your quarters across the quadrangle. Your bags are already there. Get cleaned up, take a nap, and we will talk some more at dinner this evening."

Harry shook B'Elanna's hand, as she stood up to leave. "Thanks, everyone. Haven't eaten anything in a while either so maybe Commander Kim and I can grab some lunch. I'll take care of Paris, no problem, Ma'am. I want to get back to my life once more. I guess I already miss the comforting smell of plasma residue mixed with poopy diapers." She saluted and left with Kim.

The group offered stares. Most then shook their head as the door closed behind Torres. But it was Troi who broke out laughing first. _Plasma and diapers, indeed_.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two Evaluation

Very late that evening, B'Elanna Torres returned from dinner with her new colleagues and changed into black silk pajamas to relax. Although pleasant enough, the table conversation had been more than just fluff at times. Other Starfleet officers had joined the group and a few were more than discourteous. Lieutenant Commander Dick Brownfield asked how she could just up and abandon her daughter at the space station, orders or not. And there was Lieutenant Freddy Bristow who after a few glasses of wine decided she was hot and insisted on walking her home. Harry Kim put a stop to that, after some effort. And Ensign Jenny Delaney made sure she sat next to Torres to pimp her for information about her sister. She knew Megan was never any good with children.

The stroll back to her quarters with Harry was lighthearted, however. Kim regaled her with academy stories about Paris that had B'Elanna rolling with laughter. Tom was certainly a jokester who had made friends with Harry way back during academy days. Evidently the two had come to view themselves as the old movie pairings of the Cisco Kid and his sidekick, Pancho, or maybe antiquated television's the Lone Ranger and Tonto, given the Captain Proton program they had designed together. And of course there were some off-color and spicy tales of Tom's never-ending thirst for female companionship with that huge libido of his. Torres found that revelation to be offensive and Harry got the message. He shut up.

When Torres pressed Kim as to why Tom had never married, the Korean-American winced. All he could offer was that Paris was a private and deeply caring person who needed someone special to make him feel complete. The Tom Paris he knew pursued women endlessly but also required constant reassurance that he was loved. Harry also thought Tom needed a woman with a strong enough personality to stand up to his crap. But he also desired a lady who could take it, as well, although Tom rarely lost it. The half Klingon lieutenant found herself smirking at the thought.

B'Elanna also thought that last comment was curious and pushed for more. "I thought Tom had a violent streak?" Harry just shrugged and said his friend was complicated. He iterated that Paris' ideal woman was someone who was 'independently dependent,' an intelligent, competent, and resilient person in her own right but one who also wanted a man to share her life and to take care of her. Tom simply had never formed a lasting relationship with that kind of female. So in Tom's fantasy mind, for some reason the perfect woman became Starfleet Lieutenant and Engineer B'Elanna Torres. That actually made some sense to her. She was definitely like that with Max.

So now she was taking some time to examine the PADD that Troi had provided. There were the typical file preliminaries. "Paris, Thomas Eugene. Male. Thirty-four. Born 2346, Portola Valley, California. Father: Starfleet Admiral Owen Paris. Mother: Retired school educator and administrator Julia Paris. Older siblings Moira (Paris) Anderson and Kathleen Paris-Rogers." _Okay, nothing there that is revealing._ She drank some bottled water, as she read certain portions of Troi's report.

 _Aha_. "Patient Paris suffers from extreme psychosis. He lives in his created world as a married man with a child. His belief is that he is wed to B'Elanna Torres and has a daughter, Miral. This situation has hindered recovery, for Torres acts as a conduit to Nexus. Paris experiences separation depression, anxiety attacks, delusions, suicidal tendencies, mania, withdrawal from family, and hallucinations. The patient often becomes violent, particularly when confronted by holopictures of him taken by Starfleet investigators on Caldik Prime, when shown his Maquis uniform and identification, and offered other evidence of being the helmsman on the Liberty. He has shown nothing but contempt for other credible information taken from official Starfleet and civil records. Medical treatment has included progressively stronger doses of Haldol, Haloperidol, Perphenazine, Thorazine, Proloxin, Navane, Thiopental, and various cocktails mixing those components with experimental psychotropic medications. No measurable effect upon Paris."

 _Wow_. _If he wasn't nuts already, all of that would probably drive him there_.

She flipped the page and continued. "Therapy sessions with counselors have failed to cause patient acceptance of his being Thomas Eugene Paris, a single and failed Starfleet officer and former Maquis paramilitary freedom fighter. All the 'evidence' he has offered to counter reality has been refuted by official records and family intervention to include sessions with his sisters and parents. He refuses to accept the overwhelming and compelling evidence before him and claims it is all fabricated."

Torres skipped down a few paragraphs. "Without serious measures prognosis for recovery is very poor. Brain intervention or permanent removal from society may be required. Before those methods are taken, however, it is suggested that Paris be allowed to confront his 'wife.' I recommend that Lieutenant B'Elanna Torres be temporarily assigned to Starfleet Headquarters with duty at Starfleet General Hospital. It is hoped that Paris speaking with Torres will open his mind over time to accept the truth. With her successful involvement followed by recovery, training, and education, Paris has a very good chance to be a contributing if average member of society. Further reports to follow. Troi, Commander."

Torres contemplated that synopsis and now better understood what was expected of her. This was certainly a lot of bother for one insane man but he _was_ the son of Admiral Paris. So she perused the next file, Paris' academic progression as a Starfleet legacy. He was highly intelligent with an IQ of 155 and, like her, rebellious by nature. Prep Academy, Starfleet Academy with very high honors, and then pilot training for an operations and command track cadet with impressively exceptional reaction times. Medical proficiency in his secondary field was off the charts. Definitely had a doctor's insight and more than a basic knowledge of medicine. He excelled in computer programming and holodeck design. Everything she read said future admiral.

His hobbies included flying, designing complex holodeck programs, and magic tricks. He loved to snow ski. _Sure, skiing. The perfect outlet for a speed freak out-of-control wild man._

All considered Tom Paris was a pretty normal guy. Sure, he had been born with the silver spoon of the Admiralty at his immediate disposal but he seemed to be a pleasant enough person on paper. All he had to do was use his brains, education, upbringing, and connections and he was there; a career success story. But he had fallen on hard times due to poor judgement and perhaps too much youthful exuberance coupled with an overabundance of testosterone. But she also figured it was that constant need to feel wanted and loved that just gnawed away at him. Torres could understand that, given her father leaving her at a young age. And a mother who was more warrior than nanny. Max had filled that desire in her and she loved him so much for it.

It didn't take much reading for Torres to know that the downhill slide for an adult Tom Paris began with the shuttle crash at Caldik Prime. A Board of Inquiry was followed by a general court-martial where he fibbed under oath. That error, along with him being found guilty of the charges, tossed Tom Paris out of Starfleet in disgrace. Federation prison followed; ten years' worth. He behaved himself enough to be released early only to run off to the Maquis and the Liberty, a doomed ship that became trapped within Nexus after going through The Ribbon. All of what she was told about the real Tom Paris was there in detail and confirmed.

A paper manila envelope had been provided so she opened it to remove a recent holopicture of Paris in his brown hospital clothes. Although his hairline was receding a tad, he still had tousled blonde hair that she really thought would be fun to run her hands through. Those crazed cerulean eyes displayed his obvious madness but were so intriguing. And that impish smile of his showed a mischievous nature that Torres found to be fascinating. For a moment she was thinking that if he wasn't so creepy he would actually be quite handsome and might even be a good catch. Her skin flushed a bit as her blood warmed and moisture formed between her thighs.

That was when she just burst out laughing. Attracted to Tom Paris based upon a picture! Come on! But Harry said he was a ladies man who had 'panty-dropping eyes' and could talk a woman into bed in minutes. Putting the image down, the Starfleet engineer now took out additional pictures of Max and Miral. Max had his high forehead, curly-brown hair, and those piercing dark brown eyes she loved so much. And it always amazed her how much that daughter of theirs looked like her parents even at the tender age of almost three. The young lady had her Mom's forehead ridges, although not quite as pronounced. And her brown eyes and brown hair were definitely Torres genetics. And there was Max's smile, big as life.

Suddenly something startled her about that. Picking up Paris' picture once more she compared his face with the holopicture of Miral. She could almost swear that her daughter had Tom's smirk, that quirky one she would see when her offspring was up to something naughty. _Just my imagination. I miss them both_.

So now she opened the most important PADD document, Tom Paris' transcripted rantings as to what he believed to be the truth. He talked about his being a rehabilitated Starfleet officer, one that had finally made his father proud. And of a Caretaker and how that angry entity threw a Starship with a combined crew of Starfleet officers and Maquis about 70,000 light years into the Delta Quadrant. That right there was more than enough evidence that Tom was being nonsensical. She knew the Maquis had no love of Starfleet and would never serve together.

After seven years in that Quadrant, the 'USS Voyager' returned to Federation space and Earth. Tom described how that vessel was supposed to have entered the San Francisco shipyards for a long-overdue and necessary rebuild but ended up at Deep Space Nine's facility instead. Then he discussed how the newly-appointed vessel commander, Captain Chakotay, was tasked to provide escort duty for ships transiting near Nexus, although the ship had a skeleton crew and the repairs were not yet complete. Not much else was there regarding the ship and its activities.

But there was plenty about B'Elanna Torres and Miral. She read how Tom had wished he had known B'Elanna during their Academy days, although he was three years older than her.

She paused and thought. _That's odd. Why would he say that? Of course I knew Tom as a cadet but he was nothing more than an acquaintance_. So she shrugged and continued reading.

Paris talked of her joining the Maquis and how they ended up on Voyager. Tom explained how the two of them were not exactly close at first. She once called him a pig and thought he was arrogant. That was until they shared a horrific experience in a Vidiian prison where Torres was separated into two beings and they and a 'Pete Durst' were to have their organs harvested. Durst was and sadly he died. But that shared experience and what followed caused Tom and B'Elanna to become close friends. And a couple years later they were on Sakari IV where Torres was suffering from Klingon blood fever and she bit him, claiming Tom as her mate.

 _Uh huh. Sure I did!_ Torres shook her head and laughed, for she had indeed claimed someone like that but it was Max. She bit him her senior year at the Academy, not Paris or anybody else. She was monogamous and her own chin scar where her husband had bit her on their wedding night proved it. Her hand touched that scar; the memory of him biting her was so strong.

But Torres' mouth opened in wonder anyway. Something compelled her to look once again at Tom's holopicture very carefully, just in case. No bite mark there. _Obviously he is delusional_.

So reading on revealed how the two of them danced around each other for a year, flirting and growing even closer until they worked on a Day of Honor program together. Now she knew he was nuts. There was no way she would do that; she hated blood pie and Klingon pain sticks! But then she read that the two of them had ended up that day floating in space after a warp core recovery mission went badly. As they ran out of oxygen right before being rescued he told her he was so glad that the last thing he would see was her. He even mentioned a dream he had of them being married with kids. And she told Tom she loved him. _Right! I love Tom Paris! Yes, he is absolutely insane._

 _Now what is this shit?_ _Oh,_ _Kahless!_ The next sentence had her shaking her head once again and laughing. But she soon stopped when matters turned serious. Paris insisted that they then became lovers, for three years. Tom told the shrinks that B'Elanna eventually thought he was just using her for sex and companionship so she was going to end it. That was when he realized in the middle of an intergalactic space race with her as Flight Engineer that no one in the universe was more important to him than B'Elanna. So he stopped the ship and asked her to marry him even as they were about to blow up. And after the crisis ended he said he might have to beg her to answer him. So she said…"Yes, Tom! Oh God, yes!"

B'Elanna nearly dropped the document and placed a hand over her shocked mouth, hardly believing what she had just said. She had not read that; she had spoken it out loud as naturally as could be. Even though it was merely Tom's transcribed interview of his phony proposal story blow-by-blow, his words came across to her as so genuine. It was as if she could actually hear and feel them. As with Max's proposal and her acceptance, Tom was so excited when she said yes! And according to Paris they were married that night and honeymooned on something called the Delta Flyer. It was there that they took the Klingon Blood Oath.

 _The Klingon Blood Oath!_ Hell, she had never done that with Max! Totally oblivious to Klingon culture, Max Burke had no interest in anything Klingon with one exception: sex. So he never asked her, although she had dropped enough hints that this ritual was very important to her. She even asked Max to read _Women Warriors at the River of Blood_ but he always had other priorities. He never understood as a full-blooded human that the male must take the lead to prove his worthiness to be her mate. And Paris thinks he did that with her when her own husband did not? _He is such an idiot_.

And according to Tom, a few months later Torres became pregnant with Miral and she desperately wanted to alter her appearance while in the womb. That much was true; she did not want her daughter to have her forehead ridges and suffer ridicule. But it was Max who stopped her, not Paris, right before he deployed. And then Tom recalled her giving birth in Sickbay with an EMH present while he was supposedly at Voyager's helm running away from the Borg and into the Alpha Quadrant. That much was true, at least partly. Max was on the Equinox and the Orion's doctor was indeed an emergency medical hologram, a holographic woman who had once been assimilated and reprogramed by the Borg. She delivered Miral with Torres lying there alone and in agony. But then the EMH was reassigned to Starfleet Headquarters a year ago or more. Never did catch her name.

And that loving husband of hers before he left had actually put credits down with the ship's betting pool on when she was going to deliver. She was _sooo_ glad she could accommodate him because he was right. He made a lot of Ferengi latinum slips off of that bet. She had banked it and it was still there. She had the deposit slip.

But Tom then told of finally being released from duty. He ran to the turbolift and then Sickbay to hold his daughter and kiss his wife senseless. B'Elanna could actually feel his touch as she placed her hand on her cheek. Tommy Paris just exuded emotion in his interview when it came to her. _Tommy. Where did that come from?_ But she knew. Owen Paris had called him that in their meeting so it just came out. And she had missed that feeling of Tom's made-up abundant joy with Max because he wasn't there when Miral was born and still had not seen his daughter. Maybe she simply wanted a caring person and family man around more than she had imagined. From what she had read, Paris was supposedly that way. Max could be quite the cold fish, except in the bedroom.

She knew this transcript was based upon pure bunk, of course, merely the delirious desires of such a sick individual who concocted all of this and more. Tom Paris must have been deeply embroiled in Nexus for a long, long time to speak with such passion and detail. There was just so much here that she could not wade through it in one night even if she wanted to. The rest would wait until the morning.

Walking into the latrine, she washed her face and brushed her teeth, taking time to stare into the mirror as she removed her makeup. While looking at herself she pursed her lips to pluck a few hairs near her lip. Then those musical lyrics once again came shooting into her head, pounding away like an insistent drumbeat. She smiled this time, however. Somehow she knew that her husband was trying to comfort her, wherever he was. _I know my kingdom awaits. And they've forgiven my mistakes. I'm coming home, I'm coming home, tell the world I'm coming home…_

"…let the rain wash away, all the pain of yesterday." Somehow finishing that sentence just sounded wonderful to her as she sang it out loud. To her, there was something truly remarkable about rain. Rain cleared the air and certainly washed away the pain. Rain had done that for her before. It helped make things just a bit more clear. The clouds lifted and the sun burst out. To her, rain was gentle like a whisper. But it was also as powerful as a shout.

Then B'Elanna could actually hear the rain pounding on the window of her guest quarters. Ready for bed, she entered the bedroom to take in one of those San Francisco squalls that had suddenly come up. A quick jerk opened the glass wide so as to take in the fresh and moist air with its ever-present and slight taste of sea salt teasing her lips and tongue. This felt so good.

So she decided to leave the window open just a crack to hear the melodious pitter patter on the sill. Turning off the lights, she crawled under the covers and embraced the darkness, her eyelids becoming heavy. Soon she would be checking them for holes, as her mother used to say. Reaching for that holopicture of Max, she hugged it closely to her breasts; her desire to be intertwined with her husband was so overpowering. But sleep overtook her with a huge smile on her face. For the first time in weeks, her dreams were pleasant and she slept in comfort through the night.

The next morning came quickly. B'Elanna awoke early to go out for a run around the shuttle field, feeling absolutely refreshed. She was so relaxed now and not worrying about her husband or what had happened to him. Something told her he would be okay; everything was going to be fine in the end. Cuddling Max's picture had convinced her of that. So before getting up to dress in her gym clothes she retrieved the picture from her blanket and went to give Max a nice wet kiss. To her horror she discovered that what she had been holding all night was the image of Tom Paris.

/

"So, Lieutenant, are you ready for this? Just sit in the observation window, watch, and listen."

Chief of Hospital Security and Vulcan Commander Tuvok explained the rules for Torres to follow. Paris would be released from his room and be led into the courtyard where he was free to interact with other patients, under close supervision. The vegetation contained microphones and cameras to record everything that was being said or done and there were attendants nearby in case anything violent happened. All Torres had to do was remain where she was and watch unobserved. She was free to take notes as she desired but do nothing to attract Paris' attention such as pounding on the one-way glass.

"Ready." Torres acknowledged that the observation could begin.

A door soon opened and several patients drifted in, their distinctive brown jumpsuits easily identifiable from the white-clothed staff. It wasn't a moment before Torres spotted the 6'1" Paris who entered quickly and began to walk around the area at a rapid pace. He was gesturing wildly and talking to himself. So she turned up the audio to see what she could pick up.

"…and then you just laid there in the damned sickbay with that alien sucking the life out of you! And damn you, B'Elanna, you refused to let that holographic Crell Moset operate on you because he was a Cardassian. I begged you and begged you but you would not listen to me. 'Rather die,' you said. So I talked with the command group without your permission and convinced them to let him and the EMH operate anyway. That saved your life! But what did you do? You screamed at me. You hated me. You would not listen to me. It took days before you would talk to me again. And if you had died, what do you think would have happened to me? You are so damned stubborn. But I love you anyway. You are my wife."

Torres had no idea what Tom was talking about. He was obviously still under the misconception that he was married to her and she had never heard of Crell Moset. Then Tom sat down on a bench and started rocking back and forth, talking to himself and rubbing his head. "You know, Dad, I always wanted you to be proud of me. But you never were until I came home. Always pushing me and telling me I wasn't worthy of being a Paris. But I showed you, didn't I? Mission after mission on Voyager as Chief Helmsman. I broke the warp ten barrier with B'Elanna's help. And then I married her; a beautiful and wonderful woman who I really don't deserve. And she gave me the most precious gift of all, Miral. Miral! I miss you so much, Sweetheart! Suddenly he jumped up and ran right over to the one-way glass. He started beating on it while his lips moved. Torres was taken aback because it looked as if he was talking directly to her.

"Don't worry, Lieutenant. He does that all the time. He can't see you and that glass is nine inches thick." Tuvok smirked. "Now he must once again learn to behave. Observe."

Two men in white coats came over and jabbed Tom in the neck with Klingon pain sticks. He cried out and fell to the ground, writhing in agony. Then one of the orderlies put Paris into an arm lock and forced him to his feet. The former Maquis pilot was wobbly so they just dragged him off through the door for who knows what.

Torres became unglued, jumping up and heading for the side access entrance. Tuvok grabbed her arm but she broke his grip. "Let me go! What the hell are you doing to him?"

Tuvok remained his unflappable self. "Nothing that is not approved hospital procedure, Lieutenant Torres. He will undergo electric shock therapy and an ice bath now to teach him some manners. Paris must learn discipline, as part of his treatment. He is free to wander about and rant all he likes but must not strike out at people or objects. He hit the glass with his fists. He knows that is a rules violation but he likes to push. And we must push back or the inmates will run the institution. The sticks are low voltage and the pain reduces in a few hours. See, he was perfectly calm when taken away."

"He was nearly unconscious! That was not necessary, Commander! Kahless, I _know_ pain sticks intimately and they cannot be set to low voltage. You know he took a full charge from two of those things to the back of his neck. And I know how they feel on my own body. That was nothing short of torture. And you are going to shock him some more, aren't you? Does his father know about this?"

The Vulcan scratched his head indifferently. "Admiral Paris knows everything and has signed the release forms. You are soft, Lieutenant Torres. Engineers always are. They spend far too much time working on non-sentient machinery instead of commanding personnel in battle."

Tuvok noticed she was still seething. Perhaps a different approach was in order. "I do not expect the uneducated to understand the sophisticated methods that are used in hospitals to treat patients with mental disorders. As I said, he will be fine. But you are more than welcome to talk with the nursing assistants if you are uncomfortable. If you would come with me, please."

The two exited the observation area and entered the open courtyard where Paris had been stunned minutes before. Striding across the area revealed several patients who sat in wheelchairs or leaned against the columns, mumbling inanely or simply staring into space. One person, a strange looking balding man, gazed at her intently with pleading eyes but soon looked away quickly. Torres halted; an unseeing Tuvok was still moving to the doorway.

"Do I know you?" Torres asked that question out of curiosity, for the man indeed looked familiar, perhaps from Starfleet Academy. He wasn't quite right, however. Despite all the Federation assurances, space travel was not safe and so many officers and enlisted personnel suffered from chronic fatigue, radiation exposure, or merely 'cracked up.' This man looked healthy but there was obvious pain in his eyes. And maybe what she would call recognition, although she had never met him before.

"I'm B'Elanna. What is your name?"

Absolutely unresponsive and obviously disturbed, the man wrapped his arms around a column and spun around it, laughing and giggling as if he were a child. Torres watched with interest and compassion. _So sad_. That smile of his was familiar but the man would not speak with her. This behavior was so typical of aged patients in the later stages of Alzheimer's and similar dementias. But he was middle-aged! Now Tuvok was motioning frantically to get a move on.

But then the man reached out to her, not too far to attract attention but more like he had stumbled and was regaining balance. Torres caught him, holding him up as a whisper entered her ear. "Remember this. I…am…Annika." He smiled.

/

"So, B'Elanna, you have spent six weeks watching Tom Paris and have talked with every member of the staff regarding procedures, medications, and options. You have read the medical literature, Starfleet regulations, studied his files, and attended group meetings with administrators in secret. But now you want to speak with the Director of the Mental Facility before your first session with him! What must we do to convince you that Paris' treatments are necessary? What can she do that Admiral Paris and Counselor Troi and I haven't already told you? You must admit that Tom Paris _is_ in good health. He is only restrained or punished when he acts out and that is for the protection of the other patients, not just him."

Torres looked at Doctor Beverly Crusher. She knew all of that. But something just wasn't adding up.

"It's important. Before I see Tom, for our first session alone."

Crusher smiled. _Shit. So stubborn._ Yet tolerating questions from the medically unacquainted came with a doctor's turf. "Of course. You have every reason to ask. The Director's private reception room is over there. She will be with you in a few minutes. Now, if you will take a seat at that table." Crusher left and Torres plopped into a chair to spin around a bit.

 _This is so perplexing_. Over the past few weeks she learned so much about Tom Paris. He was almost a friend on paper and she began to feel a connection with him, as if she knew things that went beyond what she had read or observed. There was something about how he moved. His face was so familiar to her. Something struck her about the way he would look at people and even her through the glass. His eyes were so full of intelligence and expression. And also a lot of pain. Somehow she knew he was a good person. A loving person. Someone she could actually…. Her hands clenched and unclenched as her mind churned.

But then she concluded that the overwhelming physical evidence indicated Tom Paris _was_ truly insane. He threw fits and tantrums. He babbled endlessly about her and Miral and his father having accepted him. Tom would not only talk to patients and staff about this but also to potted plants and shrubs. He even got down on his knees and addressed a sprinkler head, speaking to it for nearly half an hour. Once when it activated he did not even notice he was getting wet. That was not normal behavior by anyone's standard.

But there was also something else that had happened and it actually frightened her. One afternoon B'Elanna had walked into the 'treatment' room to discover Tom's bloody shirt on the chair. He had been beaten and not too gently; they had cracked his nose and snapped several bones. Apparently he had broken restraint and attacked an orderly with a metal chamber pot and security did not appreciate that one bit. After a severe pummeling, he had been taken to the hospital's Sickbay doctor for treatment. B'Elanna had recognized her as that woman EMH, the same one who delivered Miral. Tom needed two hours of her expert services to mend his bones and treat his bruises. And it was obvious that this holographic doctor certainly had once been Borg, her use of nanoprobes was a dead giveaway, as was her obvious cranial implant.

It was curious that a hologram would look like that but Torres wrote that off to just another mystery about this hospital. She instead recalled walking around that empty treatment room while taking in the restraining chair with its broken straps that should not have come undone. Tom had been set up; she was certain of that. There was the ice bath and potent electrodes that he had endured for over an hour. Very primitive stuff to be sure but perhaps effective, although she could not see how.

A strange sensation occurred when B'Elanna touched Tom's shirt and some of his blood unnoticeably went on her fingers. By accident she tasted it when she scratched an itch on her face. A shock immediately went through her body, something she had not felt in years. Then she picked that shirt up, taking in his scent. It filled her and her blood became hot; she wanted him desperately.

As she stood there contemplating what that meant, the song in her head returned once more, just as it was doing now. _And the blood will dry, underneath my nails. And the wind will rise up, to fill my sails. So you can doubt, and you can hate. But I know no matter what it takes. I'm coming home, I'm coming home, tell the world I'm coming home. Let…_

"…the rain wash away, all the pain of yesterday."

"Excuse me? Did you say something? Lieutenant Torres? You wanted to see me?"

Torres turned in her seat to see a uniformed woman standing in the doorway. She moved over to the table and sat down. This blondish person in her early forties outranked her so Torres went to stand up. But the officer indicated she should remain seated. "You may go, Beverly. We will be fine alone." Crusher nodded and left, closing the door behind her.

"I am Rear Admiral Samantha Wildman, director of this treatment facility. I read in your written correspondence that you are ready to talk with Tom Paris but have questions about his case management. All of that has been explained to you before but I can certainly try to address your concerns. As administrators, we are here to do that. We do this so often with family members who never seem to be totally accepting of what we must do. We try so hard but are simply understaffed. And finding qualified attendants is difficult. They seem to be reassigned so often. Or they are…not always the best people available." She smiled, seeking approval of her admission. Torres said nothing.

"Obviously you are not Tom's family and normally we would not discuss his case with you in depth. But In Tom's mind you are his wife and the Admiral has told us to give you whatever you want, even though I must say we have done more than that already. I suppose, however, that it is a good thing you are raising questions now before you confront…or should I say interact with…Thomas."

She poured some coffee. "Care for some? I seem to operate on this stuff. Lubricant for the soul, I guess. As you know, Starfleet calls this the 'juice of life' and in my case that is so very true." She laughed and Torres did as well, feeling just a little bit better. "Sure. Black is fine. Thanks, Admiral."

The two drank some coffee. "So, what can I do to help, B'Elanna? I am here to assist any way I can you know."

"And I appreciate that. I am concerned, Ma'am, that Tom is being abused. I understand that I am no psychiatrist or medico but I have worked closely with enough medical staff over the years to know rough treatment when I see it. He has many bruises and abrasions. And I have seen attendants using a dermal regenerator on him fairly often. Over the past several weeks I have noticed that only Tom Paris is being treated this way. He has been beaten, isolated, shocked, and dunked. No one else is undergoing that form of treatment. Everyone else no matter what they do is left alone or gently removed to their rooms. It seems a bit odd to me, Admiral."

Admiral Wildman nodded and tapped her teaspoon on the table, as she looked at the floor. "Tom Paris is a very unusual case. His psychosis is deeply imbedded and his will seems unbreakable. We believe that he acts out to gain attention so more individuals will hear his story and may even come to believe him. He does things that are simply outrageous. We have caught him talking to plants, trying to discuss flying methods with the therapy dog and cat, punching his own reflection, and even smacking his head on a lamp post. And he talks endlessly no matter what he is doing. He is married to B'Elanna Torres. His daughter's name is Miral. He is a Lieutenant Commander now and Voyager's First officer who has made his father proud. All this talk of the USS Voyager and shipmates who he addresses by name and rank like he knows them. And a Lieutenant Commander! Everyone knows a First officer on a Starship is a full Commander. My word!" She poured a fresh cup for the two of them.

Miral's daughter shook her head and sipped away. "Not all the time, Ma'am. There are operational exceptions if no one else is available and the officer is highly-qualified. From Paris' file he was command and operations trained at the Academy. And on the Liberty he was not just the chief pilot but also served as deputy commander because of his background."

Wildman drank more coffee. _Bitch_. "Well, I am not a personnel expert like you apparently are, B'Elanna. Just a Rear Admiral shrink who runs a mental hospital. Several months ago, before you came here, I met with Tom for a personal consultation. I prefer to know my patients. Like you, I also had doubts about him. His story seemed so real. He looked at me and even called me by name before we were introduced. Then he proceeded to say that I wasn't who I said I was. According to him I am actually a xenobiologist aboard Voyager who is married to a Ktarian named Greskrendtregk. I supposedly have a child named Naomi. My 'husband' is on Deep Space Nine. Apparently I started to smirk at the time and Paris became very agitated. Watch this holovideo."

Wildman pulled up a file and the two now observed the viewer.

There was Tom Paris in a typical rage, pacing wildly and slobbering on his jumpsuit. "He _is_ on Deep Space Nine, Sam! And you used to have dinner with B'Elanna and me on Voyager. Naomi is your daughter and she calls us Uncle Tommy and Aunt B'Elanna! Your parents are Linette and James. You have one sister, Nancy! Don't you see? All of this is fake. You are a fake. Everything is fake. Why won't the pain wash away? Where is the rain? Where is my B'Elanna? Where is my Miral? What have you done with them? God, I love them so much."

The video stopped and the Admiral reached across the table to take Torres' hand in hers. A tear was running down B'Elanna's cheek. "My parents are deceased, B'Elanna. I do have a sister but her name is Myra. But no husband. No daughter. And you were on Deep Space Nine for quite a while working on repairing the Orion. Did you ever meet a Ktarian man named Greskrendtregk? It is a small enough station and you would have met him, if he was there."

"No, Ma'am." B'Elanna sniffed. She had never met him. But she also heard what Tom had said about her and Miral and for some reason it touched her very soul. He had used the same words that Max had sung to her when things were bad. Something was very wrong but she was not about to mention that.

The cheery Rear Admiral faced her. "Nor could you! He does not exist. He is a figment of the delusional mind of Tom Paris."

She stood up and faced the door. "What we are doing here is in Tom's best interest, I assure you. Admiral Paris has authorized us to use any force necessary within Federation and Starfleet regulations and civilian clinical guidelines to break Tom's will to fight back. Tom must eliminate his anger and stop acting out or he will hurt himself and others. If he remains violent, he simply will not respond to treatment. What you are being asked to do then becomes irrelevant. It is such a shame. I understand he was once a highly-skilled pilot who could fly a ship through the eye of a needle. It would be so wonderful for everyone involved if he could do that once more. So…wonderful. We would all feel that we accomplished something beautiful here with such a troubled patient."

Torres nodded and an idea formed in her head. "I imagine that for a skilled pilot such as Tom Paris that flying is his life. To not be able to fly would be staggering. Maybe that is the key. I can try to convince him to let go of me and Miral so he can be treated and then fly once more. It's worth a try, anyway. Thanks, Admiral, for clarifying things. No need to explain anything any further. I will do what I have to do."

Admiral Wildman smiled. "I am sure that you will, Lieutenant. You have a reputation for getting things done. We have every confidence in your ability to interact with Tom Paris. It just seems so natural."

Torres saluted and left.

Beverly Crusher then walked in and closed the door. "Well?"

"Tell Admiral Paris not to be concerned. Torres will do what she has to do. I have every confidence that she will be able to break Tom Paris' grip on her and Miral and we will soon have him well on the road to recovery. Owen and Julia will be so thrilled to have their son back. At least Julia will."

Crusher nodded, then turned to Admiral Wildman as a smile settled upon her face. "Oh, I think the Admiral will be elated. Nothing would please him more than to have Tom flying once again."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3 Therapy

 _Progress. They all said he was making so much progress. But even doctors can be so wrong._

Lieutenant B'Elanna Torres packed her suitcase and prepared to leave San Francisco and the Starfleet compound to begin her long trip home. After more than seven months, she was finally coming home to Miral. Her excitement grew, not only for that reunion but also because her husband, Max Burke, had been found safe and sound. His ship, the Equinox, had merely lost propulsion and comms in the Beta Quadrant and was later discovered adrift by a passing Klingon vessel. He was never in the Delta Quadrant on some secret assignment, as the Starfleet head shed suspected. Just a routine survey mission gone wrong that became a big flap over nothing. B'Elanna was furious but also relieved that it was just a big misunderstanding. _Typical Starfleet bullshit._

Her shuttle would arrive within the hour, the one that would take her to the Los Angeles Intergalactic Spaceport for a ride in first class to Q'onoS. Once on the Klingon home world she would catch the weekly Fleeter hop to Deep Space Nine. That route would shorten her journey by nearly a month and she was so grateful for that. Starfleet picked up the first-class cost; Admiral Paris told her it was the least they could do for her wasting months with his son.

Surprisingly, she did not view it that way. Wasted time? No, not exactly. She had come to know Tom Paris fairly well and that was reward enough for her. He was complicated to be sure, grieving, and living an unproductive life. That much was certain. But underneath that blonde hair and behind those blue eyes of his was something that she simply could not get at. She really felt for him.

Going home to the Station hurt her, as well. It meant not only a failed mission, the first of her career, but also as if she was leaving behind unfinished business.

Maybe it had been the way Tom talked to her, as if she _was_ married to him. She almost believed it just a few days ago; he was so convincing and had nearly worn her down. But all those PADDs that she now gathered up also showed his obvious insanity. Tom Paris was a broken man who would live out the rest of his life in a world of his own creation. But she also knew that it was only a matter of hours before they would cut on him. And if that did not work he was going to the Federation 'fruit farm' where deeply disturbed individuals were kept away from society and absent their support network of those who loved them. Of all the societal holdovers from past eras, ending State institutionalization of the mentally ill was something that the Federation Council had never been able to find common agreement over. Too many worlds and that Prime Directive kept getting in the way.

As an added bonus, she had been given an appointment to talk with her husband and daughter via MIDAS before she left for Los Angeles. It was a long trip back to the Station and they both wanted to see her before boarding a MIDAS-free commercial ship. When offered the air time she did not hesitate. That much she was looking forward to.

As Torres prepared to shut her suitcase she noticed something stuck to her right high heel. It was that holopicture of Tom Paris. She had accidently stepped on it, punching a small tear right where his heart would be. _How odd_.

Torres removed her shoe and the image, trying unsuccessfully to push the damaged opening closed. As she replaced her black pump she imagined that this was the way it had been with her and him. The piles of PADDS strewn before her said as much. Over the course of so many months, the two had made progress. But he continually referred to her as his wife and that Miral was their daughter. He seemed so genuine, so compelling.

Torres went to toss the picture into the disposal but something made her stop. Reopening her suitcase, the picture went inside right next to Max. No, it was Miral's image. She had placed Tom next to Miral. It was on top of Max's holopicture and that seemed to be the right place for it. For a moment Max did not seem to be important to her anymore.

Looking at her chronometer showed she had some time before she had to meet the shuttle outside of the Headquarters building. Going over to the window casement, she took a seat on the padded bench and opened her PADD, the one with the session summaries. It was all there, of course, each therapy encounter containing both the official report and her personal transcribed notes. There was so much medical babble in the official ones that it made her head swim. Hers were written in plain English and made far more sense. Reading out loud, B'Elanna recalled some very painful times and also some good ones with a man who ultimately she had come to care for more than just a tiny bit _._

"Session One, December 27, 2380. Well, this first encounter did not go well at all. Tom was emotional and violent. I first saw him when he walked into the courtyard jabbering to himself, as usual. He paused to meet with one of the attendants who nodded her head sympathetically to appease his rants. Then he looked up and saw me. I was sitting on a bench under the large oak tree. That caused him to break into a dead run, his arms open and extended with the biggest smile I had ever seen on anyone's face to include my husband and parents. He kept calling my name over and over and I could see he was crying. I should have been afraid of him but I wasn't."

Torres stopped reading for a moment, not wanting to go on. She took a deep breath and continued anyway. "Tom stopped in front of me as I stood up and he asked how I was. I could see he wanted to kiss me but contact was forbidden and I wouldn't allow that anyway. So I told him I was fine. I lied. I miss Max and Miral so much but he did not need to know that. Then he asked about Miral and I lost it. I was so emotionally spent that I just lost it. Tom reached out for me but stopped. I suppose he just wanted to give me a hug. I pushed him away and he stared. I could see the pain in his eyes. Then the attendants ran over because they saw him touch me. He hadn't but they began to beat him anyway. Three of them jabbed him in the neck with Klingon pain sticks and he screamed my name once more. I stood there motionless remembering my non-interference orders as they injected him with sedatives and he collapsed to the ground."

Torres stopped again. She was biting her thumb, her mind asking over and over why she did not intervene. But she was too disciplined to do it, although she knew this was so wrong. And she knew what came next. They dragged Tom through those doors again and she did not get to see him for a while. Her inquiries about him initially went unanswered but eventually she was informed that he had calmed down and was doing better. Commander Deanna Troi offered a few techniques to avoid a repeat performance. Not that she wanted that. It had been horrible. Closing that document, she opened the next.

"Session Two, January 18, 2381. Commander Troi insisted that a staff psychologist accompany me because we were going into Tom's room. I entered along with Commander Pablo Baytart but I really did not need him. Tom was in a straitjacket, sitting on his bed, rocking back and forth and mumbling. His face had not been washed or shaved in days, probably because he was covered with bruises and his right eye was closed. I was told Tom had fallen down in a fit but I did not believe it. Baytart stood ready with the anesthesia gun, his finger on the trigger, which is unsafe. I told him to put that thing away and I sat down in a chair a few feet away from Paris. Tom looked at me through his good eye and simply said, "Hello, B'Elanna." For the next half hour he said nothing else while humming to himself. No matter what I said he just sat there looking around as if he was searching for something. So I did what was asked of me. I explained who I was and my Starfleet background. He grunted when I talked about us being friends at the Academy. When I mentioned Max Burke he became very agitated and I thought Baytart was going to zap him. I knew he really wanted to do it. But this time I held up my hand and gave him one of my looks. He backed off."

That made her laugh. Her husband also knew that when she looked _that way_ she was not to be messed with. Obviously, other men got the same message.

"I began to talk about me. My Starfleet education and how I graduated as an engineer. Paris shook his head and I swore he mouthed 'That's a lie.' I am many things but not a liar! Then I talked about being married to Max and our life together and assignments. Tom said nothing until I mentioned giving birth to Miral. With that he perked up. I could tell there was fatherhood in his eyes and he fought his restraints as if he wanted to hold her. I could almost feel his love for her; the psychosis is so strong in Tom Paris. Then I began to carefully explain that I was not married to him, no matter what he thought. He began to nod his head in what appeared to be agreement."

But that was not it, as she discovered.

"I guess I moved too hard this time, sensing an opening. I kept pressing him to just let go of me and Miral. I told him that if would let go of me he would get better. The sessions would stop. He could get proper treatment and fly once more. His eyes widened when I mentioned flying, a look of absolute joy suddenly came over him. I was right. Flying is Tom's passion and obviously it means more to him than his fantasy about me. But I was so wrong, for he looked at me and said, "Being with you, B'Ella, _is_ like flying." I nearly lost it again."

Torres stood up now and walked around, the PADD wobbling in her hands. _What the hell are you doing to me, Tom Paris? After just two sessions with you I was feeling something. Harry is right. You are one seductive son of a bitch._

She steadied herself and continued. "I became very frustrated then. I needed a break from this lunatic and walked away with Baytart, session over. Done. But then something just made me stop, probably because I could feel his good eye boring right through my back. So I just turned and walked back to Tom who was humming once more. I stopped and put on my best 'I'm disgusted' pose and then I looked down and just asked him, "What the hell do you want from me, Paris?" I saw Tom work his mouth. It was so dry from not being given a drink in a while. Then his face changed. It became so calm and lucid-looking that for an instant I thought he was sane. 'About time you asked me, Bea. I want you to have the rain take the pain away. Tell the world I'm coming home.' Then he winked at me with his one good eye."

B'Elanna recalled that she did not sleep well that night at all.

Her finger scrolled down the PADD and opened the next document. "February 1, 2381. I talked with Paris for several hours while he was being guarded closely in the hospital courtyard. Tom swore he would not try anything and he was the perfect gentleman. At first the session was similar to the last one. Nothing of value came out of it other than he missed his wife and daughter and desperately wanted to be together with them once more. But then he turned very dark. Tom told me he had a secret, one he would share only with me despite his knowing there were microphones and cameras everywhere. I said okay and we went over to that oak tree. He was careful not to touch me but he wanted to hold my hand. I could tell. I looked to Commander Tuvok but he shook his head. No personal contact."

Now she walked over to her bed and sat down. "I really felt weird because I wanted to hold onto his. Then he just looked at me and said he knew that it wasn't possible to see me or Miral anymore because we were no longer married. Of course I was so relieved! Finally he admitted that I wasn't his wife. I asked him, 'Why, why Tom, why do you know that now?' His eyes narrowed a bit. They were so far away. So full of hurt. 'Because you are dead, B'Elanna. You are both dead. You died in a shuttle crash a year ago and I was responsible. I must come home, to take the pain away and be with you both in Sto-vo-Kor.' I was stunned. I raked my nails on my skin to draw blood to prove to him I was alive. It did not matter. He said I was a hologram like Commander Janeway. I know Holograms can die but they do not bleed real blood."

Torres drank some water, thinking about what came out of that conversation. Tom had suddenly shifted his conversation and began to address her as if she wasn't B'Elanna anymore. "He thought I was his oldest sister and I wrote his words down exactly as he said them. 'You know, Moira, when I married B'Elanna I knew I had finally found her. The woman I had been looking for my entire life. Yeah, we had our differences and scraped shields like any married couple but she was everything to me. Why did she have to get on that shuttle with Miral? It wasn't ready. I hadn't prepped it correctly. I had walked away. Only for a moment. Just a few seconds to locate a hypo-spanner and a nacelle tube probe and scrubber to flush the gummy plasma injector lines. But she was so excited about getting into the Delta Flyer and taking it for a spin. So fascinated by that ship. And she wanted to prove she could fly it without me. I should have been there. I could have stopped her. Now they are gone forever.' Then Tom looked at me as if I was a wraith. He knew he should not touch me but he did. And he cringed in terror and not just because they were going to beat the shit out of him when they reviewed the video. If he was clear-headed he would have seen my shocked face. But he wasn't coherent at all. He told me in so many words when I then became his other sister, Kathy. "How you can listen to an insane man ramble on about his dead wife and child is beyond me. Kath, you never had to go through this torture. I pray to God you never do. Someone take the pain away, please. Make it rain."

She pressed the fast forward button, advancing the holovideo towards the end of the session. The video stopped where she tried to gently press Paris for more but Tom just brushed that off, his mind had moved elsewhere. "Then suddenly he told me there was no tragic accident. He had just made the whole thing up. He smiled and laughed. I was furious. So sick of him to do that to me. I remember shivering, as if someone stuck an ice cube down my back. Later I checked. He did make all of that up. But Troi said it was a good thing. A positive thing. Tom was starting to cope with the fact that I was not married to him. Death was a way to do that."

Torres remembered that after that session there was a major meeting among the staff with Admiral Owen Paris present. They all concurred that B'Elanna had indeed made significant progress. Paris was on the verge of admitting the truth. Maybe she had accomplished something. Maybe Tom was moving forward now.

That evening she had gone to her quarters, sat on the bed, and cried for two hours. Then she considered something she had not thought about. Maybe it was true that Tom had been married but not to her. Maybe she was a Maquis woman. The unthinkable had happened and that woman and their baby were dead and even the hospital doctors did not know that. And how would Admiral Paris know? After all, Tom had been Maquis for two years and only he knew all the details about that experience. But why had he insisted for so long that he was married to B'Elanna and that his daughter was Miral? No, this line of thinking was not right. Deep inside she knew he still believed he was married to her but why still remained a mystery.

Over the next week she had found herself wishing that Tom Paris would be magically cured so she could go home. Seeing Miral a few times via Midas made her feel lonely, as did her growing depression over having heard nothing about Max and the Equinox at the time despite incessant inquiries on her part. She knew she was grieving him and that made her realize a few things about Tom Paris. He was grieving, as well. He had created a false hope about his sorry ass existence within that fantasy of his. This was so hard for her; trying to handle her own personal issues while helping Tom to cope with his.

Now came the last session. The one that ended Tom's life, as he had fabricated it.

"February 27, 2381. Tom regressed. He again talked with me as if we are married. He asked me to recall alleged instances from our past such as the time I collapsed in Engineering when it was discovered I was pregnant. That never happened but it is so clear that being married to me and having a daughter with him means so much. In a way, I think Tom loves me more than Max could ever do. That is so hard for me to say but I feel it is true. And I'm sorry, Max, for thinking that way. Later I spoke with the administration and staff about having just one more therapy session but they concluded that Tom was too far gone after slipping in his recovery. With some regret they decided to call this entire experiment off and move on to the next step."

B'Elanna turned off the PADD and gathered up her suitcase. As she left her room to go home she recalled something that was very curious. Tom had asked, "Do you remember an Irish village called Fairhaven? Or a luau where you wore a tropical dress and I said you looked 'smashing?'" "No, Tom, none of that." Tom just grinned at her. "Someday you will. Once it rains."

It was so sad to her that Tom was obviously hallucinating with no grasp of what was real or not. But he had ended that last interview in a positive way. He said he wanted to fly. With her. She was flattered and was so pleased! But he did not want to be the pilot with her as his flight engineer. No way. Just two passengers together on their way to Tahiti, for their second honeymoon. He wanted this so much and maybe she could make that happen, in a way. They could take a quick flight around San Francisco with some hospital staff to see how he reacted. He had never been out of the hospital since being rescued, that much she knew to be true. Maybe this was exactly what he needed; to get him into the air once more. He would be under restraints, sure. But he was so excited about being with her on a shuttle. Torres was confident that just one flight would put him on the road to recovery.

But Doctor Crusher and Counselor Troi both said no. Absolutely not. And they convinced Admiral Paris and everyone else to reject this idea. It was too late for that, they said, and now it was time to shave Tom's head and prep him for surgery. As she opened the door to the turbolift she knew that procedure was happening this evening. In her heart-of-hearts she was weeping. She just could not imagine what they were going to do to him.

As she stepped outside bag in hand she fumbled with her official PADD and sent Commander Janeway an urgent message that she wanted to see Admiral Paris. For some reason she trusted Janeway and she had to stop this procedure. Disappointment crossed her face minutes later. The Admiral was enroute to Mars colony and would not be back for three days. Sadly, she closed her PADD and also her relationship with Tom Paris, one that she had actually come to value. Turning on her heel, she walked up to the awaiting hovercar and handed her bag to the driver.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four Candor

Minutes after Torres boarded her hovercar, B'Elanna found herself in front of the MIDAS studio, the last stop on the Presidio main complex before heading to Crissy Field. Her driver, Chief Petty Officer Third Class Sandra Peterson, turned around to face the Starfleet Engineer who was in the back seat. "Lieutenant, the attendant called to tell us that the system has been a bit touchy this week due to sunspots so you will not log on at your scheduled time. You are about two and a half hours behind or more so if you want I can take you to the snack bar. Or I can pick you up in two hours, Ma'am."

Torres opened the door and stepped out. "Thanks. Pick me up later. I'm not very hungry. I'll just go for a walk. Tell them to page me ten minutes out."

"Yes, Ma'am." Chief Petty Officer Peterson snagged her PADD, saluted, and drove off, heading for the Pizza Shack she liked so much. For holobowling alley food, it really wasn't bad.

Torres played with her own PADD for fifteen minutes, slowly walking around the block while checking her mail and reading some escapist literature. Then she felt a hand press upon her shoulder. She spun around to see the Sickbay doctor standing there, the blonde haired and blue eyed former Borg woman with the skull implants. "Ah, there you are Lieutenant Torres. May I speak with you? I am glad I caught you before you left. Very glad."

Torres was a bit annoyed at being interrupted in her reading but she supposed she had some time. "I do. And you are…? You delivered my baby on the Orion but we have not been formally introduced."

"I was the on-call EMH then. But let's just say I am a friend. A friend of yours. And your husband."

Torres coughed a bit, nearly dropping her PADD. "Me and my husband? I don't recall us having any friends like you. So you know Max? From the Academy, I suppose." She shrugged. "Sorry, don't even know your name."

"Let's go for a walk back to the MIDAS studio...umm...Lieutenant. I can tell you were going to do that anyway."

"Okay. But I am expecting a call from my husband and daughter and we may have to cut this short."

"Fine. Yes, Miral. She _is_ your daughter. That much is true enough. But only that much."

Torres looked at the 5'7" woman curiously as they crossed the street and headed to a small memorial park near the MIDAS facility. This area contained a monument to Starfleet personnel who had lost their lives in service. Torres was suddenly overcome with curiosity so she checked it out. No, her name was not there. She exhaled a sigh of relief.

The Doctor smiled. "No, Lieutenant, you are not dead. Just confused. I wanted to come here with you because there are so few places aboard that do not have microphones running and cameras watching everything. This place is one of them."

"Aboard? What do you mean? Aboard what?"

The Doctor rubbed her nose. "Lieutenant Torres, well, actually you are Lieutenant Commander Torres now. Where do you think you are?"

 _Oh no. Is everyone nuts around here?_ "Look, I don't know what game you are playing but I think I have had enough of this. I never want to hang around another mental facility as long as I live. Now leave me alone." She started to walk away.

Now the Doctor became more than annoyed and called after her. "This is NO game, Commander Torres. This is very serious business. And I _am_ sane, one of the few left around here. And since you won't ask, I will tell you where you are. You are aboard the USS Voyager, 8.5 million kilometers off Nexus."

Torres turned around and walked right up to the woman, standing nearly nose-to-nose as she looked up at her. "What the hell are you talking about! You too? There is no such starship called Voyager. We are in San Francisco at the Presidio. We are standing across from the Nesbitt Center, which contains the MIDAS facility. The hospital is over there and that tall building in the background is Starfleet Headquarters. And I am standing in…Memorial Grove, right smack dab in front of this granite monument that I imagine grows in size as more names are added to it."

The blonde's left hand rubbed her left eye, carefully avoiding the implant. "Actually, no. You are in a holodeck. The entire ship is one giant holodeck. And it has been that way for nearly a year."

Now Torres' mouth opened a bit, wondering where Starfleet got people like this. But this 'Doctor,' if she really was one and not a nursing assistant, seemed harmless enough. Maybe she had escaped the facility after going crazy in space. That was why she had been reassigned. If she tried anything rough, however, B'Elanna knew she could take her. But maybe some humoring would do for now.

"Okay, I'll bite. Explain." They sat down.

"Thank you for listening, Commander. More than two years ago the USS Voyager returned from the Delta Quadrant after being stranded there for seven years. I was the EMH and still am. I am temporarily housed in the body of Annika Hansen, a former Borg once known as Seven-of-Nine. She is within my holographic body, which is currently a mental patient in the hospital. I think you met."

Torres blinked. "Yes. That very strange bald man. Continue." This woman was absolutely gone.

The Borg woman impulsively touched her head. _Bald? I still have some hair!_ "You were Chief Engineer then and remain in that position now. Your husband was the Chief Pilot. His name is Lieutenant Commander Tom Paris."

Torres jumped up. "Tom Paris! For Kahless sakes! I'm out of here." She tried to leave but the woman grabbed her arm and she was strong. "Look, hear me out. It won't take long. Please." Torres broke away. She shrugged her shoulders and supposed it could not hurt to listen. She had become a very good listener over the last few months. So she sat back down and crossed her legs. "Go."

"You two got married on that ship and now have a daughter, Miral, who is just about to turn three. Voyager was then commanded by Captain Kathryn Janeway and the First Officer was Commander Chakotay. When we got back the crew underwent the usual medical and psychological evaluations and was cleared. Then there were nearly eight months of Boards of Inquiry into Janeway's causing the ship to be stranded and dozens more inquests into whether or not we violated the Prime Directive along the way. Nothing came of it and Captain Janeway was promoted to Rear Admiral. In fact, everyone was promoted then reassigned or discharged, although some remained. You have met some of the original crew here. The Maquis, you and Commander Paris included, were court-martialed and exonerated. Then your husband underwent another trial to see if he would end up in New Zealand once more. Thankfully not. You were both happy about that, as I recall. You threw one very nice party afterwards."

Torres listened impatiently. "Go on. Oh please do." When was that MIDAS call coming?

"While that was happening, Voyager needed a major overhaul. The ship was barely holding together after seven years without one. All the normal dry-dock facilities were taken by scheduled maintenance so we went to a special one set up at Deep Space Nine. We had a skeleton crew only; just enough personnel to operate the vessel and do the work. Then it was discovered that Soran had escaped and was trying to get his hands on a weapon, a second weapon. So Starfleet ordered a quarantine operation near Nexus to prevent him from destroying a second star. You know about the first bomb, I assume."

"Yes."

"Good. Saves time, which we do not have a lot of right now. Voyager's new commanding officer, Captain Chakotay, was ordered to take the ship out of dry dock early to join the flotilla. Your husband, Tom, was acting First Officer and still is. You remain Chief Engineer, as I mentioned. But the ship's dependents, the children, did not come along. Naomi Wildman was one. Miral another. Too risky given this mission and Starfleet has rules about families and Starships in the Alpha Quadrant. So Miral remains with Naomi at the Station. Naomi lives with her father. Miral is safe. You and Commander Paris placed her with a family you know there, Emony Dax and her husband Doctor Julian Bashir. But we are not. Safe, that is."

Stunned. Absolutely stunned was the only way to describe B'Elanna Torres. Miral was certainly _not_ under some family's care. She was with Megan Delaney. And she never heard of that couple and that was a fact. But she had to admit that this fairytale was interesting. Almost like the plot someone would write for a holonovel.

"Why are we not safe here, Doctor? I see no threat to San Francisco or the Presidio."

"Why! Must you ask me that? Because _we are not_ in San Francisco! I told you. We were enroute to the flotilla rendezvous point when Voyager answered a distress call from a small K-class planetoid. A small survey ship apparently crashed there. The signal checked out as legitimate so a small party was sent to investigate. They came back with three survivors, two human and one Betazoid. But they were not the original surveying crew. They died months ago with these pretenders on board. Their real identities were masked by holographic emitters. Instead of being those civilian surveyors, they are in fact Soran and the Duras sisters. Soran is now Admiral Owen Paris. The Duras sisters are now Doctor Beverly Crusher and Commander Deanna Troi."

Torres just burst out laughing, placing a hand over her mouth and giving a good snort. "Right! Sure. And I'm Selena, the born-again Fire Goddess of Andros VII. You are being totally ludicrous, just like Tom." B'Elanna recrossed her legs, her right foot pumping hard. Holo-emitters she had heard of. Spies used them, as did people who just did not want to be found. But this situation? No way.

"It would take a lot of power to sustain that amount of holographic imagery for so long."

The EMH nodded. "A starship has that kind of power, Commander."

 _True_. B'Elanna looked up, just for reassurance. There were blue skies with some cirrus clouds moving eastward, the winds obviously stronger at that elevation. The sun was in the southern sky, blazing away. By its position it was about eleven in the morning. She checked her chronometer. It was. And that sunshine was warm on her skin. Birds were chirping in the trees and a few took flight when she sneezed from pollen that was bothering her. Starfleet personnel were walking about, talking or checking their PADDs. A Starfleet civilian contractor was mowing the grass while another one used a trimmer on some bushes. A hovercar passed by, the driver looking at her with a smile and offering a short wave. She had no idea who she was but waved back anyway.

"Bullshit. All of it."

"Commander, I am _not_ lying. Lursa flooded the ship with highly-concentrated Benzedrine, which overwhelmed the crew. First it knocks you out and then it causes hallucinations. You become susceptible to impression, new realities. Programming, brain washing, call it what you will. Then you live out a new life as the gas trickles through the air recirculators and saturates the scrubbers. It took a while but those three actually gained control of the ship given our reduced crew. Then B'Etor created a massive holodeck with emitters everywhere so everyone moves about within a fake Presidio and a replicated Deep Space Nine. It could have been any vessel. It just happened to be us."

"Lucky us." Torres was checking her nails now. This was so wild a story that it was almost believable. "I'm still listening."

The woman continued, watching Torres' growing indifference. "Eight of us were initially unaffected. Lieutenant Harry Kim, Lieutenant Jenny Delaney, Sam Wildman, and Lieutenant Pablo Baytart managed to steal a shuttle, the Tecumseh, and got away to find the Starfleet flotilla. You know a shuttle has limited range with comms."

"Ah huh. They do. Okay. You said there were eight. That accounts for four. And I have seen all four and even talked with them. And why doesn't the gas affect Soran and the Duras sisters? Immunity?"

"No! Of course not. That is not logical. Think, B'Elanna! Use your engineering brain. Soran and the Duras sisters use breathing filters as part of their disguise. And the four who got away were replaced by holograms, to include Kathryn Janeway. She is Rear Admiral Janeway now and is really back on Earth. The real Earth. You must believe me."

She smirked. "Believe you when you have an answer for everything? Better talk faster since I have a pending appointment that I am not going to miss. And the other four?"

"Sure. The other four were you, me, Commander Paris, and Annika, Chakotay's wife and our Chief Science Officer. We were in the Delta Flyer when the gas was released. We just came back from a mission to do a check-out ride on some Flyer upgrades. I went along to monitor for possible cellular contamination because the flight went through an unstable nebula. I am a hologram, my male body is anyway, so I wasn't affected by Soran's gas. I gave you three a hypospray that delayed the effect for a few hours. Then Annika beamed me to Sickbay where I made up several more powerful hyposprays and beamed them to the Delta Flyer. You injected yourselves and talked for a bit about what to do. This is one of the injectors, expended of course. It was yours." She showed the expended hypospray container.

Torres looked at it. _Run of the mill. Nothing special here and no way to identify it as mine._ "Of course. So this is just a good old-fashioned hijack. Of a Federation Starship named Voyager."

"Yes, Commander. But this was not planned. It just happened. Soran was handed a gift. He has a ship. Now he wants your husband because he is the only one who can fly it safely into The Ribbon and enter Nexus. He is the only one aboard who has the skill to do it."

 _Now_ Torres knew this was bullshit. "Look, Doctor, I know something about that anomaly. All you have to do is get near that thing, maybe 500,000 kilometers away, and it sucks you in. It took a lot of ships that way, the Liberty and others. Going in is very easy. Getting out is something else. No one wants to leave once they get in there. As someone named Guinan described to Captain Jean-Luc Pickard years ago, it is a feeling of pure joy. Rapture in its purest form. And it is fantasy, one that Tom Paris lives in now. Maybe we all are in Nexus, as bizarre as this situation has become."

The woman groaned. "Not true anymore, about getting in there easily. And not true about us being there. But we are about to, thanks to you."

"What the hell are you talking about? Thanks to me?" Torres rubbed her arm and wondered when this person would just go away.

'Annika' stood up and placed a hand on the monument, tracing some of the names. She paused at one of them, bowed her head, and said something that Torres could not hear. She saw the unrecognized name. A lieutenant named Joe Carey. "It is a long story. Soran detonated one bomb and destroyed one star to move Nexus. But he only gave it a very good nudge. It moved, yes. But it also stretched out like warm taffee and in doing so became very unstable. So it no longer pulls in ships. You have to fly in there deliberately, which is good. But according to Federation scientists who sent probes in there, the current risk of destruction upon entry is about 95%. A skilled pilot reduces that chance significantly."

The Doctor gripped B'Elanna's hands. "Tom Paris is a _very_ skilled pilot and you know that. When Soran and those two came aboard, we, the four of us, knew that Commander Paris was very valuable to them. So the four of us met in Engineering and locked ourselves in. We held a major discussion and came up with a plan to save the ship. Commander Paris beamed me and Annika to Sickbay. There I repeated the process Annika and I did when we encountered the Lokirrin species years ago. I downloaded my program into Annika's implants and became her. She took control of my body. We did that because Soran, who doesn't know a damned thing about starships any more than the Duras sisters, would need a doctor eventually. He's sick; physically and mentally. But he would try to turn me off if things got suspicious. Now he can't because I am not me and my program is not in the computer anymore. And he does not know that. Tom accessed the personnel files and changed them to reflect a woman EMH hologram. I am actually active through the implants of Annika Hansen and she is inside my holographic form."

"More crap. I have no memory of any of that process even being possible. It is so far reaching a concept…."

"Look, you have to trust me, just like we all did a year ago! How could I make this up? I even watched you do a lot of things to Voyager before beaming the two of us to Sickbay. You reversed Voyager's engines and put them into overload. I mean, you absolutely destroyed them before there was a warp core breach! Even Commander Paris cringed as you did it. In fact, he asked how you could do that because you loved them more than him. You said, 'Maybe, maybe not,' and then you kissed the hell out of him. But we stopped immediately. You took away Soran's propulsion and he could not get to The Ribbon to enter it. For about eleven months."

"Not anymore?"

"No. A few weeks ago you fixed impulse power. You see, you thought you were working on the Orion, a nonexistent ship by the way. Instead you were on Voyager, you and your undermanned crew repairing the damage you caused. It took a while because you encoded everything to include scrambling the diagnostic programs. But you worked around those and fixed it anyway. Now we are underway once more and heading toward Nexus. We have some time yet because you did not repair the warp drive but you are very close, at least as far as I can gather from ship's chatter. And you also encoded and disabled weapons and shields so they do not work. After you beamed me and Annika to Sickbay you deactivated the transporters so they could not use them to get to you two in Engineering. You were taken only after the crew cut through a bulkhead. And you tried to shut down comms but ran out of time and only partially succeeded. Only internal comms work. But no one has communicator badges anymore so that is useless anyway."

"I have a call placed with MIDAS. That works."

The Doctor paused. "Fake."

"Fake? So…I will not be talking to my husband and daughter. Yes?"

"Correct. They are holograms. And Commander Paris trashed the main computer. It operates ship's systems such as life support and food replicators. Lights, water, sanitation. Personnel files. But not much else to include the ship's log. There is only one place aboard you can access Voyager's actual secure computer. That is from within the Delta Flyer II and Soran does not know that either. And that ship is sealed. You need an access code to get into it. You and Commander Paris know that code."

Torres tried to recall that information and drew a blank. She shrugged. _This story gets better all the time._

"And the most important thing. You put a structural integrity force field around the entire ship so no one can get in or go out. It is multiphasic. Our 'guests' cannot crack it. You are the only one who knows the code for disabling it and Soran wants it. Actually, the Duras sisters do. They have no desire to enter Nexus and they want off this ship. Badly. They think Commander Paris knows the code and they have tried to pry it out of him many times through some…umm...very inventive and persuasive means. But he doesn't know it so he can't tell them and he would never do it anyway. You do but they do not know that. And that is what we need you to remember. That specific code."

"I see. But that does not make sense."

"Why not?"

B'Elanna stretched in the warm sun. "Because, Doctor, if the Duras sisters wanted off then they would not allow Soran to approach The Ribbon. They would disable the gas emitters and the air would clear. Benzedrine is temporary and its effect diminishes with fresh air and time. The crew would come to their senses and the game would be over."

"That would be true if the sisters knew. Soran has never changed their filters. They are living in the same dream world as the crew except they think they are helping Paris so he will fly them through the Bajoran worm hole and into the Gamma Quadrant to escape the Romulan authorities. That worm hole also requires a skilled pilot and it is not easy to navigate."

Torres grunted as her brain churned. "So let me get this straight, Doctor. Soran and the Duras sisters never got a second bomb. They were stranded instead after joining a survey party, probably to take their ship, and that one later crashed. By pure chance Voyager answered the distress call and these three came aboard in disguise. The three of them took over the ship using Benzedrine gas and turned it onto a giant holodeck. Soran knows the Duras sisters are not happy with his idea so he just let them succumb to their own gas. Now he is running the entire show as Admiral Paris with a phony Troi and Crusher. And Soran brought me here, well, from another holodeck, to convince Tom, my husband, to let go of me and Miral so he will crack and agree to fly into the Ribbon. But we, and especially me, are his lifeline to reality so Tom is able to hang in there and resist flying. But if I cut his lifeline by convincing him to reject me so as to fly once more, he will go nuts and fly a shuttle that is in reality Voyager. And he will take it and all of us into Nexus where we will never get out until we are crushed."

"Could not have said it any better myself."

Torres nearly busted a blood vessel, she was laughing so hard. She pointed at the EMH. "YOU are crazy. But please continue this magical mystery tour. I am rather enjoying it now."

The EMH smirked. "The second code is crucial. It will lower the force field so we can get out. Or maybe so Starfleet can get in. There is a large starship off our stern, Commander. I heard Admiral Paris, Soran that is; say it is the USS Meridian, which is a Federation Marine Corps assault vessel. We are talking about a battalion of Marines waiting out there! And it has been there about a month. Lieutenant Kim must have got through but they can't get in unless you lower the force field. And the code has something to do with a song Tom used to sing to you. I often heard it in Sickbay when you had a fever or even just morning sickness. You said it always made you feel better."

"I'm sorry…you really are hallucinating." _This is all so fabricated. When are they going to call with my MIDAS connection?_

"You are hallucinating, Commander, not me! Not Tom either, at least periodically. We all were concerned that the gas would get to you three. It has. But in Tom's case he fights it off more because I treat him specifically. I gave him four times the normal dose of antidote and he has developed some resistance. He occasionally allows himself to be beaten to a pulp, which gets him into Sickbay and then I fix him. I also take the liberty of using a hypospray booster to overcome the gas for a while. At times he is lucid. I'm running out of that compound fast but it won't matter anyway once we enter The Ribbon."

The EMH walked around and looked exasperated. "Look, Commander. Tom acts weird. But most of what he is doing now is fake. He is acting and he is very good at it. He once fooled the entire crew less Captain Janeway, Lieutenant Tuvok, and Neelix when we had a spy on board who was cooperating with a Cardassian woman named Seska. And these three have swallowed it, for now."

 _Sure. Seska. Never heard of her either._ "So, this Annika. Are you helping her?"

"Not really. I can help her mentally as a hologram but I can't treat her because there aren't enough boosters left for anyone but Commander Paris. But she has a strong will. I admire her…a lot. She is married, I told you that. To Captain Chakotay."

"And what about me? I thought I was helping Tom Paris to get well. How can I do that if I am under the influence?"

"You can't really. You are here for only one reason. To convince your husband to let you go so he will lose hope. But you and Miral mean a lot more to him than you can imagine. He…lives for you two. Soran and his cohorts know he is weakening and without you specifically he will break. And they are running out of time. Soran especially. They need him to fly the ship."

"But I am going home to Deep Space Nine. They even bought a ticket for me."

"Commander Torres, you are not going anywhere but back to your holodeck. Were you even awake when you arrived? I doubt it. And since you failed to break your husband, they will try something else eventually. But you are really their last hope. I imagine they will just pump him full of more drugs and try to turn him that way. And you do not have to just believe me. You and Commander Paris agreed to provide each other with reminders to try to remember the truth."

"Reminders?"

"Yes. Memory joggers. Of whom you actually are."

This was too much! She grabbed the woman EMH by the arms and shook her. "Look, Doctor. Now I know you are the one who is delusional. I don't need to be reminded because I know who I am. Listen to me. I am Lieutenant B'Elanna Torres, daughter of John Torres and Miral, daughter of L'Naan. I was born on Kessik IV, August 1, 2349. After my father abandoned me and my mother we moved to Q'onoS. I spent time in a Klingon monastery learning to be a good little warrior. I am a graduate of Starfleet class of 2371. And I am the Chief Engineer on the USS Orion. I have a daughter whose name is Miral. And my husband is Commander Max Burke who had once disappeared along with his ship…."

"…the Equinox." The EMH finished the sentence for Torres. "I know all of that and some of it is true. But you never graduated; you dropped out after two years. The Orion is a fictional vessel, I told you. And Burke did not disappear, Commander. The Equinox was destroyed by Captain Janeway and Voyager in 2376. He is dead. He has been that way for years. And Tom told me that you and Max were…intimate…at the Academy. But you never married him. You are married to Tom Paris. And I can prove that."

B'Elanna's PADD suddenly activated. 'Lieutenant Torres, this is Ensign George Rosa at the MIDAS studio. Our tech is working on your connection now. I think fifteen more minutes to go, if you can come over here and get miked up. Your husband and daughter are waiting on the other end. We pinged them.'

'On my way. Thanks.' "Doctor, I thought you said the ship's comms were out?"

"PADD's are a closed circuit. You know that."

"An answer for everything." _Max dead years ago! Ridiculous!_ "Okay, Doctor or whoever you are, you win. Prove it. You don't have much time anyway. I have to go so follow me across the street."

 _Finally_. They started walking once more. "So where is your wedding ring, Commander Torres? Do you care so little about being married to Max that you would lose it?"

Torres was angry now. "It's Lieutenant Torres. And I didn't lose it! I left it on the Orion by mistake. I put it inside a…"

"…grease pot on top of a console. I know. We watched you hide it there. And that ring is not yours. It belongs to Commander Paris. You put it there in case he was so crazed that you would have to give it to him so _he_ would remember. So per Tom's orders I am now to give you yours once more. I was holding it because I was not searched. I'm just a hologram, as far as they are concerned."

The Doctor reached into her pocket. "So how do you explain this? Take a good look at it." Torres accepted a small tote bag that contained a ring, a gold wedding band. Inside was inscribed 'maj dok. TEP-BT 1-4-2378.' "That inscription is your wedding day. I was there you know. And 'TEP' is not 'MB.' Try it on. It's a perfect fit. Size seven. And by the way, Commander Paris said to tell you that you wear size seven boots. He also said to tell you that he…umm…loves massaging your feet. You both get…very excited."

Max had a thing for her feet and it was true that his rubbing them made her horny. Especially when he worked his way up her calves to her thighs. Torres licked her lips and blushed but ignored the comment and took the ring. Hers did look like this but it was engraved with their initials, Max and hers. She put this one on and it fit perfectly, as she suspected it would. "Replicated. He replicated it from my personnel files. They said Tom accessed them."

The EMH threw up her hands in frustration. "He did not replicate this! How could he? When? Where? You lacked time for that with all your other priorities. You both agreed to use your rings as a memory jogger! I held on to this because you both knew no one would check me. And yes, he did access the personnel records but not for that. He changed them to give people the wrong rank. There are other errors that you should have picked up on. Chakotay's tattoo is on the wrong side of his face in his 'official' Starfleet photo, for example. Janeway's hologram hates coffee. Max Burke has blue eyes. He's just a hologram in the MIDAS studio."

Max Burke a hologram! Now Torres' brain was beginning to hurt. "You are off the deep end! A lunatic! There is no way any of this is true." She bit her lower lip. "But the ring, I mean, how?" She kept staring at it, as if wanting that gold band to explain to her what was going on. "No. This isn't real."

The Doctor saw that B'Elanna's ring did not work to jar her mind back to reality. They were screwed if she could not remember the codes and that should have jolted her enough to do that. But it hadn't. "I am not crazy, Commander. You are drugged and you are living in a fantasy world. But unless you remember the codes we are doomed. I won't keep you any longer. They will come looking for you if there is too much delay."

Annika turned. "Maybe something else will shake your brain. If it does, try to see Commander Paris once again and maybe he can explain things better than I can. And don't worry. They won't do it, Commander. Operate on him, that is. They don't know how. It's a ruse. Just a game they are playing because they need him. And you can't reason with them. Soran wants Tom to pilot Voyager to get into Nexus. The Duras sisters just want off and to avoid the Romulan police who are after them. They will all continue to try to break him to get the deactivation code but he can't give it to them. He wouldn't anyway. I know Lieutenant Commander Tom Paris very well. He's family, just like you both are to me."

Torres blinked. "You are related to us?" So that was it! This was another sister of Tom's or maybe a cousin with an agenda hoping to keep her here to try and make Tom well once more.

Hansen's mouth smiled as the EMH spoke, words of pride in her voice. "No, Commander. I _am_ family. I am Miral's godfather. My name is Joe. I took that name after we returned from the Delta Quadrant. When this is over, I will sing you an aria. I like opera." Then Joe pleaded, walking backwards before running back to the hospital. "Please, Commander. Try very hard to remember. Only you can save us now."

B'Elanna watched the Doctor turn the corner. Her head was pounding with a number ten migraine. After thinking a bit she decided to dismiss all of this as pure conjecture, the runaway imagination of someone who should be in treatment herself. But when walking up the steps into the building she heard those words once more. _So you can doubt. And you can hate. But I know no matter what it takes. I'm coming home, I'm coming home, tell the world I'm coming home. Let the rain wash away, all the pain of yesterday._

 _/_

Doctor Hansen repaired Paris' dislocated right arm, the result of Tom having acted out once more. Tom gingerly rotated his shoulder, the pain still obvious but he was also glad to have use of that arm once more.

"Did you speak with her? With B'Elanna?" He moved his arm up and down like a chicken wing, making sure that the bone had been set properly.

"Yes. For over half an hour, Commander."

"Is she okay?"

"Under the circumstances, yes. But I know she remains unconvinced. You have lost."

Tom Paris felt some loosened teeth as Doctor Joe/Annika Hansen reached for a dermal regenerator with the dental fixative attachment. "Not yet, Doc. There is one more that can persuade her. One she trusts implicitly and will convince her. Hopefully, she will come to me first and I can convince her to do what she needs to do. "

"You are talking about Miral. Open up." The metallic probe entered Tom's face. "Bite down gently. It will take about a minute." The tool began to hum as it reset Tom's loose teeth.

"Aaahhht wadddd eeee taahhhhhh ovvveeeeusss."

Annika's face broke out into a large smile. "Sssssh. Commander! Didn't your mother ever tell you to never talk with your mouth full? There. Done."

He worked his jaw and bit down. Everything was solid once more. "Yeah, she did. I said that would be too obvious if it was Miral. Our daughter's avatar will help in this situation but it needs to come from elsewhere. Not so obvious except to us and one that she absolutely trusts. What else needs fixing this time? I can't grab that water glass."

"Look at the bruising on your right hand. That's why. You have a dislocated finger and you cracked your wrist when they slammed you against the deck. First that, then your right ankle. That is also broken and swollen like a grapefruit. I need to use the bone knitter with the ice emitter." The doctor went to the cabinet for sterile instruments and paused. "But the MIDAS connection to Deep Space Nine is phony. She will be talking with two holograms…wait a minute!" Hansen rubbed her forehead. Then she raised a finger in front of her face and wiggled it. "When you accessed the computer you also altered the Starfleet retired personnel files. You know Max very well from the Academy and our encounter in the Delta Quadrant. Commander Paris, you are one sly man! But I said Max had blue eyes because you changed them that way. That's not really true, is it?"

Tom just smiled and it was a very painful one. He twisted his aching neck as he rubbed his sore jaw. "No, his are brown. But the eye color won't matter now. I didn't change them. No time. And she had to have a holopicture of him anyway because she thinks she is married to him. Damnit, Doc, be careful with that ankle!"

"Sorry. I should use a woman's touch."

Tom laughed. "And Annika is quite a woman." He winced in pain. "It's what I do best. Screw things up. Before I met B'Elanna once again I spent a lifetime fucking things up. Now it's time to set the record straight. It's time to make it rain."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five Rain

MIDAS technician Ensign René Harper helped Lieutenant B'Elanna Torres with her microphone, failing more than once to connect the device properly due to the fidgeting and overexcited officer refusing to stand still. But eventually she got the thing hooked up and managed to get the half-Klingon to stand on the marked spot to face the viewer.

"We have tested voice and video. You are good to go, Ma'am. Five seconds, four, three…."

Still fidgeting when the screen activated, Torres looked up to see her husband Max Burke, his brown eyes peering right at her. _Brown eyes, not blue. That Doctor lied to me. I knew it. Tom Paris. How could I even think I could trust you?_

"Max!" Torres ran to the command console and put her hand on the screen, her husband now grinning at her like the Cheshire Cat. The Starfleet commander held out his arms as if to embrace her and blew a kiss. Then he touched the screen on the opposite end, covering her hand. She called out to him. "Max! Oh my God! I love you so much!" He waved and smiled at her, a tear running down his cheek. She was so happy!

"Are you okay, Honey? First you were supposedly in the Delta Quadrant and then Headquarters said you were found in the Beta Quadrant. This is so Starfleet. What happened? I never heard from you for so long. I was so worried."

Max rubbed his face, wiping away the tears from the corner of his eyes. "Starfleet always believes the first reports. A passing freighter in the Delta Quadrant evidently picked up a warp core breach that mimicked a Nova-class ship explosion. But all the Equinox experienced was a power failure to comms and propulsion and we were never near that Quadrant. We were working on it when the Klingons found us in the Beta Quadrant. It really was no big deal but we all knew our families were worried. No casualties, thankfully. I'm just glad to have come home and to finally meet Miral. So, when are you coming home?"

Torres was so excited! And so relieved. "I'm leaving today! Today Max! This mission has been the worst one of my life, Honey. Do you know about it?"

Max shook his head. "I was briefed but not much. But enough to know Tom Paris is a maniac. He always was. We almost came to blows a couple of times over you when we were cadets. I guess he thought I never treated you properly. It was none of his business but I knew he had it bad for you. The lovesick jerk. He wasn't good enough to find a woman on his own except for a one nighter. He wanted to take you from me. He was so obsessed with you."

B'Elanna looked at Max. "I…never knew he felt that way!"

With that Burke winced. "B'Elanna, he is very dangerous when it comes to you. You told me how he kept hounding you with messages even after we were married. And it was so damned obvious to me at least. He would stare at you when you walked by in the Buchanan Quadrangle and in a lustful way. And when you had pizza he always bought your favorite without asking. And he knew you liked light beer so he bought that too just to gain your trust. Then I caught him taking holopictures of you when you were sunbathing on your dorm roof. Ours was three floors higher. I kicked his ass, the damned pervert."

"I can't believe this! I never knew him! I...you never told me! I mean, Tom is sick, Max. He's actually a nice person when you get to know him. I hope they find a cure." Torres was stunned. She did not recall any of it.

Max shrugged his shoulders. "I never told you because what good would it have done? He was Admiral Paris' kid and they would have covered for him since he never touched you. And he's sick alright. He's psychotic. All Nexus did was amplify his already squirming brain. I would not doubt it if he wants to kill you for marrying me. He is that vindictive."

"Max! Now that kind of talk IS crazy! But then again we know so little about the human mind and it is true that he just will not let go of me. But he's never tried to harm me. Never. I can't imagine he would…." Her mind turned over what her husband had said and rejected it as absurd. "Enough about him. Where's Miral?"

Her husband smiled again. "She's here. Had to go potty." Megan Delaney then came on camera with Miral in tow and pointed downward at her. There she was, wearing a very cute pink dress with white socks and black shoes. "Here she is!" He picked up his daughter. "Wave at Mommy, Kitten! Say hello!" B'Elanna burst into tears as Miral smiled after seeing her mother once more. But then she began to squirm. And now she was crying.

Max was trying to comfort her without success. B'Elanna could understand that. Miral had never seen her father before other than in holopictures. So she tried to console her instead. "Its okay, Miral! This is your Daddy. He's been away a long time but he's come home now."

Miral was pushing hard on her father's chest and leaning back. "No! This isn't Daddy! Where is Daddy, Mommy? I miss you. I miss Daddy."

Max was trying hard to control Miral, maybe a little too hard because she was fighting him so much. "She's just excited, B'Elanna. She'll be okay. And you are coming home soon? I love you and miss you. Hey!" Miral had bit him on the hand. She never did that to anyone. So Max swatted her on the bottom. "You do not bite people young lady and especially your father." Miral was crying even harder now, absolutely scared. And so was B'Elanna. Some doubt crept into her mind now. Out of the blue she asked Max about who had been taking care of Miral.

"Megan Delaney, of course. I picked Miral up from her quarters about forty minutes ago. And she is right here. You can ask her yourself. Why?"

"No, Mommy. I'm staying with Aunt Emory and Uncle Julian. I don't know this man."

B'Elanna was more than worried now. "Max, just what the hell is going on here? Who are Emory and Julian? I don't know them." Miral's mom was agitated, smoothing her tunic and shifting her feet. Her daughter needed reassurance, not discipline. Tom always knew that automatically. He always did. _Tom? What am I thinking?_

"No idea. Never heard of them, either. Umm…she's just a bit confused like I said, Beetle. It has been one hell of a day and we just met after so many months apart. She will calm down and get used to me, don't worry."

Torres stared at her husband. "Max, what did you just call me?"

Now it was Max's turn to gawk, as he tried to control his very unhappy daughter. "Nothing, why?"

"You said Beetle."

Now Max started snickering. Miral appeared to calm a tiny bit but was still blubbering. "Oh, that! Come on, B'Elanna! I've always called you that because of your initials. You know. BTL. A scrambled version of 'B'Elanna Torres.' Bacon, tomato, lettuce, the way you like to assemble that sandwich. On toast with a dab of mayo, then cut at an angle. It has always been our little joke. Beetle. Right?"

She nodded. "Yeah, I guess I just haven't heard you say it in a while. Listen, Miral will calm down eventually but you do not need to swat her. Don't do that again. Just talk to her about how nice it is to be home and take her over to the Station food court for an ice cream. She likes strawberry although she tolerates vanilla. And do not give her too much because she can get hives. No cone, although she will beg you for one. Only a dish with a teaspoon. And then make sure…."

Max started laughing so hard! "B'Elanna! I know I need to get used to this fatherhood thing but I think I can handle our three-year-old. And Megan is here and Miral obeys her no sweat, if things get out of control. I see MIDAS is about to expire. I love you, Honey! I can't wait for you to come home. Please come home soon. We'll be waiting for you!"

The screen countdown started as the technician moved towards B'Elanna. But her brain was already turning, trying to analyze what she had seen and heard. She waived and blew a kiss at her daughter who had calmed but only when put on the floor and with Megan taking her hand.

The screen went blank and Ensign Harper disconnected the microphone cord. "That was so nice, Lieutenant. I am sorry you did not have more time with your family but I hope your visit was a pleasant one. Miral was a bit overwhelmed, I think. Imagine, your daughter not thinking Commander Burke is her father! But it happens all the time in Starfleet with absentee parents and births happening during deployments. Nothing unusual, from what I have experienced."

Torres nodded in seeming agreement, as she handed over the microphone's shock cord. "No, nothing unusual. It was good to see them. If you will excuse me, I have a shuttle to catch. Thanks, Ensign." The Starfleet officer walked outside to find her hovercar standing by. She entered and the vehicle moved off, heading for Crissy Field.

For a while she just sat there as the hovercar moved on, staring out the side window as she bit her lower lip. Then B'Elanna reached over the seat and tapped Petty Officer Peterson on the shoulder. "Sandra, can you turn around? I just remembered I left something at the hospital. Do we have time?"

Peterson looked at her chronometer. "Umm…yes, Ma'am. We do. Traffic isn't bad right now and we have more than enough. I'll take you there right away. What did you leave there?"

Torres leaned back in her seat and looked up at the ceiling. "Something very important." _Maybe my husband._

 _/_

"Lieutenant Torres! I thought you left. Is something wrong?" Nurse and Starfleet Ensign Mary Ann White had looked up from the nursing station to see B'Elanna patiently standing in front of her with her arms crossed.

"No. No, nothing. I wanted to make sure Tom Paris was okay. One more time. I mean, he is prepping for surgery and…."

White flopped her hand at the engineer. "Oh that! Admiral Wildman called earlier and said the procedure has been delayed. They are bringing in a hotshot surgeon from Bethesda, a specialist in brain separation." She looked at her PADD. "A Doctor…Marla Gilmore. But she can't get here for ten days at least. So I guess he has a temporary reprieve and more time in his personal lah lah land. You know, Ma'am, I've seen my share of cases around this place but Tom Paris…."

She stopped and gulped. From her glaring stare Torres apparently was not amused. " _Where_ is Tom?"

The flustered nurse looked at her charts. "I really don't know. It is not my day to watch him. But usually at this time he is in the courtyard. I'll contact Commander Tuvok. If you are going there he needs to observe. Rear Admiral Wildman's orders."

"Fine. I know my way. Thanks."

Torres headed down the corridor in a huff, turning left and then left once more and then right. There was the doorway. Opening it, she soon located Tom Paris who was standing near a column conversing with the bald man who then exited the area through the door as she walked up to Paris. "Tom, we need to talk."

Paris smiled but was not overly excited to see her. "Well, well. Lieutenant B'Elanna Torres! How nice to see you. When did you arrive? Everyone told me that you were coming to visit me but I didn't believe them. I mean, I really did not know where you were and now 'poof' here you are! Just like magic. Such a surprise! Did Dad arrange this? He really loves me, you know? He does. And have we been introduced before? You are B'Elanna Torres, aren't you? So nice to meet you once again. Where is Miral? I think I know her."

B'Elanna stared. If he was acting, he was doing a very good job of it. But maybe not this time. He was babbling just like her therapy sessions with him. And those eyes of his were typically crazed as they darted back and forth without focusing on anything really. Regressed? No doubt of it. That hunch of hers at the MIDAS facility now seemed so wrong. But it had been so strong. The same feeling she had when she just knew she had fallen in love with…somebody. No, he was performing. He had to be, didn't he?

"Let's move over there, Lieutenant Torres. By that very pretty oak tree. Nice bench. I like it when the acorns hit the ground. They make a plopping sound as they hit the concrete. Careful, don't step on one. They are like little marbles and you can take a nasty fall. A nasty fall. You might hit your head and end up nuts like me. Nuts. Get it? Acorn nuts." He laughed.

The two walked over and sat down, B'Elanna knowing this had been a very bad idea. Then Tom whispered to her, as he looked around. "This is the only place in the hospital other than Sickbay where they can't hear us. There is a voice scrambler in the tree branch above our head. Simulates conversation but not what we are actually saying. Tuvok over there thinks he is listening in but all he is hearing is us discussing small talk like the weather. You designed it long ago and I put it there just after I was 'admitted.' They did not find it on me even with a full body cavity search. I'm very good at hiding things in plain sight." He palmed an acorn and then closed his hand. Opening it revealed two acorns between his fingers. Now there were three. Then none. "See?"

All that did was cause Torres to look at him in amazement and confusion. Tom scanned the area and gestured a bit. "So why are you here? Maybe we can have sex at your private work station? Or maybe in a Jeffries tube? Man, we were really out of control back then. Janeway chewed our asses royally and we got written reprimands. But it was worth it. You are worth it."

Paris looked hard for any recognition of past performances. None. Other than showing embarrassment and anger, Torres had no idea what he was talking about. If she did she was playing it close to the chest. Tom did not know that her feelings were telling her one thing but creeping doubt was telling her something else. Then he caught her gathering his scent.

Torres breathed deeply, shook her head, and smiled. Her blood stirred. Maybe this was her husband. But her head hurt so much. "Oh God, Tom. I am so confused now. Just what the hell is going on?"

Tom grunted, his face reflecting a pained look but he did not have a lot of time to worry about that now. "I guess I should start at the beginning. Always good to start there. You can start elsewhere but you always have to go back to the beginning, don't you? Once upon a time, about nine ago actually, a man and a woman met once again after many years. Later, they fell in love. Then they got married on the USS Voyager and wanted to live happily ever after. Their lives together have been interrupted by all of this nonsense but she is still the most important woman in the universe to him."

Torres was flattered but also hesitant. "Very funny, Paris. You are wasting time." Then she giggled but did not know why, now only half believing that he was acting out. Max never made her giggle.

Tom turned serious fast. "What do you know or think you know?"

Placing a finger on the side of her nose, Torres related what the Doctor told her and then her MIDAS conversation. "My head is pounding like it is being hit with a hammer. I don't know what to believe anymore, Tom."

"That's the Benzedrine. It's extra thick in here. All of our heads hurt. But we only have a few days left and then it's over anyway. Starfleet might destroy this ship rather than let it enter Nexus. But if it successfully goes in, it isn't coming out. Ever. I refuse to fly it so they want you to convince me to get into a shuttle once more. To let go of my lifeline. That shuttle will be Voyager, not what it appears to be. I won't do it. I won't."

He stopped and whispered. "Tuvok is looking closer now, trying to read our lips. I am going to say something nasty. Act pissed."

He stood up and walked around in a circle, pausing to stare at Tuvok. Then he turned. "You said you would listen to me! B'Elanna, just shut the fuck up!" Tom was now leaning over her, one hand on the tree. He winked. "Don't hit me. If you do they will beat the shit out of me."

Torres was taken aback, as she looked up at him. "What did you say? Since we began therapy weeks ago, you've never told me to shut up! Never!" She winked.

The engineer was playing along. _That's my B'Ella!_ "You are so right. But I did tell you that just once. But not in therapy." Tom started to walk about again. Her mind turned that one over. She had no recollection of that event but perhaps the gas was affecting her, if Tom was truthful.

"Look Torres, are you going to let me talk or what? Let's talk…shuttles."

"Shuttles?" B'Elanna scrunched her knees up into her chest and wrapped her arms around them.

"Yeah. I tend to have bad experiences in shuttles. One flight, however, was the best one of my life. You know that one. You were there when we toasted the victors. B'Elanna Paris. Tom Torres."

Torres knew exactly what Paris was talking about, although she had not experienced that event herself. Tom had told her more than once how he had asked her to marry him in the Delta Flyer. He was so convincing that she almost believed him. But now he was talking about their wedding night aboard that ship and how they had playfully argued over last names. They drank champagne and she offered up 'Tom Torres,' since it was the twenty-fourth century.

"I have kept my own name, Tom. Max and I did not like the sound of 'B'Elanna Burke' and there was no way he was going to become 'Max Torres.' But I thought it was kind of cute. So Hispanic-sounding, like an old movie character. You know, Max Torres, private eye."

The pilot smirked. "Remind me to watch that one next time we have popcorn together in our apartment or Voyager's movie theater." His eyes were staring at the door as a staff psychiatrist walked in. "The winds around here tend to swirl and really are not suitable for the type of shuttles that are parked out there. The ride can get bumpy so that is why you need to be fully restrained. I imagine you experienced a bit of turbulence when you flew in here a few months ago."

B'Elanna recalled that flight. "I did. I think I nearly puked my guts. But I slept through most of the descent. No dampeners on those things."

"You were drugged. But it's worse if it is raining. Or if there is fog." He looked at her. "Rain. Friend or foe, depending on how you look at it. One of the most powerful forces on a planet. Washes away everything." She stared at him but he just shrugged it off. "And I think, I hope, that it is about to do that now. Rain. And one of them does. The shuttles, I mean. Has great dampeners. We built one that way. You and me. And Harry. And Annika. The one parked by itself. You must have seen it."

Sure. That one was unique. "I did. It looked amazing. I was drawn to it out of engineering curiosity but didn't have time to examine it."

He turned to face her and leaned over. "It is. Amazing. Just like you. And you should have a quick look at it before you lift off for 'Los Angeles.' When you do, just go to the back ramp access door. There is a small speaker there. Push the black button then say, "Torres Alpha Three, Miral One, Paris Six." Then he grinned. "Bingo! Oops, we have company."

Starfleet commander and physician David Livingston came over accompanied by Attendants Ensign Bob McMinn and Ensign David Gibson. The two aides were holding Klingon pain sticks and they were armed. "Is he bothering you, Lieutenant?"

B'Elanna shook her head. "No, we were just talking. He seems to be in good health."

Paris cut in. "Actually, we were talking about our shuttle. It is custom-built. Called the Delta Flyer II. A very skilled bunch of Starfleet officers designed and built that ship. People who happen to be my friends and one of them I am married to right now. It also made for one hell of a honeymoon, despite Harry Kim putting confetti in the sonic shower when B'Elanna and I were just about to have a nice little rub down."

Now Doctor Livingston laughed. "Oh come on, Paris! Here I thought you were making progress even with your rescheduled procedure. And now you are talking about your honeymoon aboard that thing. More of your craziness about being married to Lieutenant Torres."

Tom waggled a finger. "Actually, she is Lieutenant Commander B'Elanna Torres. She was promoted just like most of us once we returned from the Delta Quadrant and after all of those freaking Boards of Inquiry. And you are no doctor, just a quack. You are really Commander David Livingston, Chief of Exobionics aboard Voyager. You spend your days watching these two lap dogs run analyses and other useless experiments on the crew to make sure they are not suffering from any number of nonexistent space-related diseases. Then you render a boring PADD report to the EMH who files it somewhere never to be seen again by human eyes. Of course, not every one of us in this place has human eyes. One of us is El-Aurian, specifically one Admiral Owen Paris. Two of us are female Klingons, Commander Deanna Troi and Doctor Beverly Crusher. Commander Kathryn Janeway is a hologram; she is really a Rear Admiral now and at Starfleet Headquarters. The real Starfleet Headquarters in San Francisco. None of this is real. This place is total bullshit. But what do I know? I'm crazy. You said so."

Livingston shook his head and motioned for his two goons to accompany him. They walked over to Tuvok and the four left together.

"Good riddance. But I'll pay for that shit later. For now we need to make sure you know what to do. So now you have the code for the Delta Flyer. Do you remember it?"

Torres nodded. "Yes, Tom."

"Okay. Now comes the hard part. You have to remember the critical code. The one that drops the force field. You must make it rain."

"Look, Tom. You keep talking about that code. And there is a song in my head about rain. Even if this was true I…."

She suddenly stopped. "Wait, okay!" Now she got up and walked around, gesturing in Torres fashion and nearly like Tom. "Let's just pretend it is true. Everything you said. I am your wife. Miral is our daughter. But I can't make it rain! And I know Chakotay is of Mayan descent but rain dancing is just a ceremony with no scientific basis in fact. What the hell is this song about? Let the rain wash away all the pain. What pain?"

Tom could see she was not remembering. He had to convince her to go to the Delta Flyer sooner rather than later if this nightmare was going to end.

"Okay. We agreed to this, to use this song to jog our memories even if nothing else worked. It comes from a very painful time in our lives that only we would know about. And the code is somewhere inside it. Inside that song. You put it there."

"Tom, I.…"

Paris reached out to Torres but did not touch her. "Just stay with me here. I can feel myself starting to let go once more. Not much time." He then walked around, fighting his dazed mind to remember any of this. "We were on Voyager in the Delta Quadrant before we were married. I had been asking and asking for you to go out with me after the Vidiian prison experience. You kept saying no. We were just friends as far as you were concerned and you wanted to keep it that way. At least that was what I thought. I even said you were living like a Tabran monk." Torres laughed. She was anything but that with Max.

Tom laughed with her. But then he got serious once more. "I was feeling a lot of pain then. Emotional pain because I wanted to get closer to you but you kept pushing me away. I wanted to see if we could be…more. You told me later that you were thinking the same thing and were really hurting because you were scared. You were afraid to get involved with someone like me who would break your heart and leave you like your father, John Torres, did. I told you in Sickbay after we were married that I would never leave you. But you did not know me very well several years before that. I was just a pig to you when we came aboard. But then you changed your mind. Something happened that altered all of that."

Torres thought a bit. "Right. Now I get it. You told me this. After the Vidiian prison. So this part of the Paris universe is where we are on Sakari IV. I'm going nuts due to Klingon blood fever. We confess we are attracted to each other after I bit you and claimed you as my mate. And I told you I had wanted this for so long. And we almost had sex. Yes?"

"No."

"No?" That took her aback. "But…."

"No."

"What then?"

He paused to rub his arm. "All of that happened, true enough. You did say you wanted this for so long. And to just let it happen. But I could not take advantage of you. Damnit, B'Elanna, I was in love with you! But you need to think. What made you say those things, blood fever or not? We _never_ dated before that. We had a few drinks in Sandrine's and had fun in the holodeck but Harry was always there or someone else was. Fever or not, what caused you to suddenly say that you wanted to be with me? And for so long?"

She shook her head, trying to recall something that never happened. None of this was true but she could easily imagine turning Tom Paris down for a date. Why she would go out with him was beyond her. And to want to have sex with him! "I really don't know what would make me say or do something like that."

Now Tom turned to face her. "Because _you_ had been jealous, Bea. You were green with it." He paced a bit.

Torres scoffed. "Jealous? Green? Are you serious! Of what or whom would I be jealous, Tom? You had already broken up with Sue Nicoletti and Megan Delaney, according to you. You had no one else on Voyager before me, also according to you."

Tom smiled back at her. "You are so right. No one else _on_ Voyager, not even that hologram named Ricky. You don't remember the woman I am talking about, do you?"

"No, Tom. I don't." She was struggling but nothing was coming back to her. There wasn't anyone or anything _to_ remember regarding his dream world.

Tom Paris rubbed his stubbly face. His head throbbed but he had to get this out. "About three years into our little Delta Quadrant sojourn, Voyager was attacked by a Federation time ship, the Aeon. We were flung back to the twentieth-century, to the year 1996. When we were there we made contact with a member of a top secret program called the Search for Extraterrestrial Intelligence or SETI. I was one of three Voyager crew; me, Tuvok, and the EMH; who met with a young woman scientist from Los Angeles and the Griffin Observatory to try and figure out how to get back to our time. Her name…was Rain Robinson."

Torres blinked. Her mouth moved and she sat upright once more. "I'm listening. Go on."

"Well, I was hurting badly, you know. I mean, you know all of this because we talked through it before. Rain, well, she did not buy that we were Cold War spies. That was our cover story so people did not know we were from the future. But she said that era was over. And after a while we started to talk a lot. And the more we yakked the more we sort of connected. We shared a love of science fiction movies and other stuff. Anyway, we became…a bit involved. Nothing sexual. But we kissed. I...really liked her."

"Typical womanizing pig, Paris. Just like your file and what Harry Kim told me about you."

He shrugged. That was what B'Elanna thought about him years ago. "I won't lie to you. I have never lied to you, ever. Rain, well, she was warm and smart and loving and beautiful, B'Elanna. A stunning brunette with brown eyes, just like you. You know that is my weakness in women. She had longer hair than you and no forehead ridges, of course. But for a while there she…umm…took my pain away. Just getting to know Rain Robinson convinced me that maybe there was a woman out there who could love me forever. I almost decided to stay behind with her. But I knew that was so wrong. In our century, she was long dead. And in hers, she had a life to live. I did not belong there or with her. I belonged on Voyager. That was my home."

Torres was moved but said nothing. All of a sudden her fingers were playing with her wedding ring, the one she had replaced on her finger.

"When I got back, you and I were going over the mission log one afternoon. You noticed entries about Rain Robinson and asked me about her. I turned to you and saw this strange look on your face. You were hurt. Really hurt. I knew right then that you cared about me, as more than a friend. I mean, I sort of knew that for a while but now more than ever. I explained who she was and you sensed that something had been going on with her and me. Later on, after we were together, you told me that Rain Robinson had cleared things up with you just a bit, even though you never met her. That you came to know that I was special to you and it was time to take a chance. Do you know what you did?"

Torres shook her head, listening very carefully. "No, I wish I could. This is so confusing."

"It is but hang in there. You asked me if my invitation to dinner was still open. I was so happy! So I took you into a holodeck program called Lake Como. Well, we started talking about things and we held hands that night. And I walked you back to your quarters. And we shared a little kiss. Then afterwards we started moving forward together very slowly, taking it easy but getting closer all the time. Then a few months later, Sakari IV happened. A year later we were dying in space and admitted our true feelings for each other. Three years later we got married. And ten months later you gave birth to Miral. It was Rain who did all of that. She…"

"…washed away, all the pain of yesterday."

Tom nodded. "She did, B'Elanna, for both of us. And so we decided in Engineering that you would devise a code, something to do with Rain and that 2010 song I dug up, something we both shared and could remember. But it had to be you to execute it because they want me and would never let me go anywhere alone. I made them focus on me so you could maybe figure it out without a lot of distractors."

Paris looked directly into Torres' eyes. "They are using you, B'Ella. To fix Voyager's engines although you think you were repairing the Orion. There is no Orion and never has been. You have been overhauling our ship, the EMH told you that. Once they have warp, all they need is me. That is why they want to break me from you and I lose my will to resist. I will then just do what Soran wants and Voyager and you and all of us just be damned. But you are my lifeline, Honey, just as you always have been. My reason to live, you and Miral that is. And I love you, B'Elanna, no matter what. But I will eventually break my promise and have to leave you. They will drug me so much that I will fly us into The Ribbon and then into Nexus then that is it. This time no one can save anyone who is in Nexus."

"Why not? Tom, what is different this time?" She knew but wanted to hear it from him.

"Doc may not have told you everything. He didn't know all the details. When Soran destroyed one star, he did not complete his plan. He had to destroy two of them to move Nexus closer to the Veridian system. By destroying only one star he moved them but it was more like a slow, sliding nudge. The Ribbon and Nexus sort of…stretched like warm taffy. But they are destabilized now. Starfleet scientists said that Nexus now fluctuates. Nexus is so massive that without constant power it will collapse like a black hole. A few years at most and it's gone! Poof! I like that word. Poof! Then it will crush everything within it; hulk vessels, Voyager, everything. Everything. And that means us."

"Tom, I'm so sorry. But I simply can't remember. If all of this is true, what am I supposed to do?"

Tom bent over, stretching his sore back. They he stood up and stretched some more. "Remember the door code. Go to the Delta Flyer, the only place on Voyager with a working secure computer link. When you input the code, the door will open for five seconds and then close and lock. I…screwed with the controls. The ship will go through an auto sequence and power up. Computer, comms, life support, engines, shields, everything will work. You will just have to sit there and take it all in. As before, air will flow but it won't take care of the gas. The scrubbers went…umm…."

"Poof?" She giggled.

Paris smiled. "Yeah, poof. No time to change them out. So you must clear your mind. There are two hyposprays in there, in the maintenance box. One for each of us, if we were both able to get away. Use one. It is the antidote. That will open your mind and you will remember the code since you can't remember it now. Once you put the code into the computer the shuttle field holodeck will inactivate, as will the force field. You will be in the shuttle bay. The doors are wide open; the force field has been keeping the airlock safe. All you need to do is to fly the Delta Flyer out of there to call for Starfleet's flotilla or our shuttle that escaped. They may already be outside and waiting to get in. Once that happens, it's all over for Soran, Lursa, and B'Etor. But we are moving to Nexus now. Voyager has pilots and you fixed the impulse drive. So you must use the hypospray and fast. Do it, B'Elanna. For God and Kahless and everyone aboard. Do it."

Torres was torn. "Tom, you could be lying to me. About all of this. Just so Soran gets the code. And the Duras sisters can escape."

"You are right, I could be lying." He turned to look around a bit and saw the sprinklers come on. "Those things can make you very wet. They are not very good at discussing helm control issues like you are."

He smiled and leaned down towards her so they almost touched noses. "In all the years we have known each other I have never lied to you, my B'Ella. I have never hurt you intentionally and I never will. We trust each other with our lives but I know that in this case you don't trust me. There is another that you trust more than me right now. Believe it when I tell you that."

He sighed, thinking about that necessary rival. "But you have your wedding ring, the one I gave to you years ago on Voyager. That is so important to me. To us. It is the symbol of my commitment to you for life and beyond and you will give me mine once again someday. Hopefully that is enough for you to believe me. But you must decide. Not me. B'Elanna, let the Rain wash away all the pain of yesterday. Tell the world I'm coming home. You better go now."

Torres went to hug Tom but he cringed and backed away. She started to walk towards the exit but then turned back to him, reaching out with her right hand but stopping short of touching him. Tears flowed down her cheeks. "I want you to know…that I…really wish we were married. You are something else, Tom Paris. Something else."

He grinned. "So are you, Honey. Just come home, Bea. Let all of us come home. Safe trip."

Feeling as if a ton of weight was taken off her shoulders, a smiling B'Elanna wiped her face as she strode across the courtyard to see Admiral Paris standing there with Beverly Crusher and Deanna Troi. They noticed her reddened eyes.

Crusher was tapping her right foot, arms crossed. "Well, you two had quite the conversation. I suppose he convinced you that you are his wife?" Troi just glared. Admiral Paris was rubbing his balding head, searching her eyes.

B'Elanna simpered just a bit. "He made me wish I was. But no, I am married to Max Burke. Of that there is no doubt now. We talked about Tom and shuttles and flying. And of all those delusions about us. The usual fare." She shook the Admiral's hand. "I'm sorry for him, Sir. And for all of you. We all tried so hard." _Well, well._ _So much for your trip to Mars, huh,_ _'Admiral'?_

The Admiral nodded. "Well, my son will at least live out his life in a better place. One where his illusion will remain with him all his natural days. He will be content in his personal little bit of Heaven. We all will. Goodbye, Lieutenant. Have a safe trip home."

Torres saluted and walked through the doorway. Then she paused. Turning to look at the three Starfleet officers, she said in a clear voice, "We did talk about one other thing, Admiral. The weather. I think it is going to rain. Very soon." She laughed and continued on.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six Revelation

The Starfleet VIP hovercar turned onto the access road paralleling Crissy Field as the shuttle craft line came into view. Commander Kristine Fernandez motioned to Petty Officer John Chichester to slow down. "That one. The Sacajawea. Pull up over there, John."

"Yes, Ma'am.

Fernandez got out, along with Torres. Chichester picked up a suitcase and walked over to hand it to Crew Chief and Petty Officer Second Class Angelo Tassoni. He stowed it and walked around the ship, removing chock blocks and safety flags as his trained eye observed the area for foreign objects. Inside, Flight Engineer Lieutenant Diane Overdiek went over the pre-flight checklist while Senior Pilot in Command Lieutenant Commander Richard James filed the flight plan and talked with the control tower.

Kristine turned to B'Elanna and offered her hand. "I am sorry that things did not work out for Tom Paris, B'Elanna. But you did your best. And there was a bright spot in that your husband was found. You are going home to him and Miral. That is at least something positive."

The half-human woman shook the offered hand and indicated that at least she had that much. "Thanks for everything, Ma'am. I am sure that Tom will be well taken care of."

"Oh, you can be assured about that, Lieutenant. You know Starfleet takes care of its own. He will be treated with respect and dignity, the Admiral's son or no. Sorry but I have to go to a meeting. The never ending story of being an aide. John?"

Salutes were exchanged and Torres watched as the hovercar drove away, turning the corner and heading back to the main compound. "Anytime you are ready, Lieutenant." Petty Officer Tassoni had his hand out, ready to help B'Elanna aboard.

Torres paused to look about, taking in the view of San Francisco and the Presidio. Her eyes wandered as she saw people jogging around the field. Then her gaze fell upon that shuttle, the sleek one that had called to her so many months ago now. "Just a bit longer, if you don't mind. Tassoni, that shuttle craft over there. The one by itself. What is it?"

"That one, Ma'am? Why that's Admiral Paris' private shuttle. It's called the Delta Flyer II. He never takes it anywhere, however. Claims there is something major wrong with it so it has been mothballed. I mean, I've never seen anyone go near it. But we really need to get moving now or we will miss our time slot into L.A." He fiddled around with the comm cable leading to the ship's input/output jack.

Unnoticed at first, Torres turned away and started walking toward the Flyer. She started slowly but her pace quickened. Then she turned. "I won't be a moment. I really would like to check it out." B'Elanna picked up her pace once more into a jog. "I'll be right back."

Tassoni stared at her. "Lieutenant, wait!" Grabbing his comm cord button, he informed the pilot that Torres had just taken off across the shuttle field.

B'Elanna was running like the wind now, her three lungs and eight-ventricle heart pumping hard. And that song came back once more but this time she was singing it out loud. "I'm coming home, I'm coming home, tell the world I'm coming home. Let the rain wash away, all the pain of yesterday."

It took her about two minutes to cross the area and reach the craft. In that time several vehicles drove onto Crissy Field, to include a large security detail headed by Commander Tuvok.

She looked back at them and put her hand on the hull. It felt so comfortable to her. So warm. It was like she knew this vessel intimately, inside and out. They had been through so much together. There were wonderful memories associated with this ship. Somehow she just knew that. Like this was home. And then there was the feeling of trust. She trusted _her_.

Her hand searched for that black button. "Tom, you had better be right about this." Pushing it, she spoke into the speaker box. "Torres Alpha Three, Miral One, Paris Six."

"Lieutenant Commander B'Elanna Torres voice verified. Command verified." She heard a few gears turn and the access door opened. Jumping inside, it snapped shut and relocked, just as Tom told her it would.

The lights came on and she took in an interior she recognized immediately. Then looking out the port side pilot window she saw a small group of Starfleet security personnel running across the field. Now Admiral Paris drove up, along with Crusher and Troi. The handle jiggled and pounding soon began on the hull, as even more hovervehicles pulled up. A security perimeter was being established. Rear Admiral Wildman now arrived and she screamed into the rear voice box. 'Open up, Lieutenant Torres. Come on out. It's okay. We know you wanted to see the ship and now you have. You are going to miss your flight. Come on out.'

A vehicle she knew to be a facilities engineer truck pulled up and the crew began to unload a plasmatic cutting torch. It would take a while to set that up but B'Elanna knew they intended to chop through the hull, probably near the rear ramp.

She ignored that activity and looked around to find the maintenance box. Opening it, she took out the two hyposprays. They were there just like Tom told her they would. Now the ship was powering up and the helm console lights began to activate in sequence. The engineering work station powered on, its data being collected and displayed. Comms came on, as did full life support. Status lights went from red to amber to green.

Wildman turned to Admiral Paris in panic. "She's not replying to me, Admiral. Oh my God, he got to her! Paris got to her. We have got to stop her before it is too late!"

The Starfleet admiral picked up his PADD. 'This is Admiral Paris. Arrest my son immediately and bring him to the shuttle field in shackles. Contact Commander Janeway and have her comm Torres in the Delta Flyer. She trusts her and only she can save her life now.'

Inside the shuttle, Torres' brain was cogitating what she must do. First she had to inject herself. Then she had to remember the code from that song and then input it into the computer. Lastly, she had to fly this thing out of the shuttle bay and contact the flotilla. Or maybe just wait out there for the Marines the Doctor mentioned to do their thing. Grabbing the hypospray, she flipped off the safety cap and went to inject herself.

'Lieutenant Torres, this is Commander Janeway. Respond.'

B'Elanna stopped and looked at the helm screen. There was Janeway, big as life. Torres moved forward and sat in the pilot's seat. She looked at the console. Everything was operational. Tom had truly rigged the ship to power up once the door closed. Now she could hear the engines starting to turn and the ship was on autopilot. The entire start-up sequence was activating; she knew it intimately. Once that was done, all she had to do was take control and fly it like it was a test flight. She had done that so many times before in other shuttles.

'Torres here.'

'B'Elanna! Thank God! You haven't injected yourself, have you?'

'No, Ma'am. But how did you know I was….'

Janeway cut her off. 'We went over the session transcriptions, all of them. And we just talked with your husband, Max, about an hour ago. He is the one who provided the final piece to all of this. This puzzle all makes sense now. Don't you see it? None of this is what it seems to be.'

Torres winced and rubbed her neck. Of course it wasn't. Tom told her that. So did the Doctor. But she was not expecting what she was about to hear.

Janeway's voice was urgent and filled with concern. 'Tom is even crazier than we thought. When he was in Nexus all he did was dream about hating Max Burke. B'Elanna, think about your Academy days with Max and Tom Paris. Tom believes that Max stole you from him. He hates both of you. This is his ultimate revenge. That hypospray is filled with poison. You will die and Max then loses the love of his life forever. Miral loses her mother. Tom is so twisted! So wicked. I can't even imagine this. He has been saying he is married to you only so we could bring you here to help him. He wanted access to you. All he wants to do is kill you.'

Now B'Elanna's mouth hung open in shock. _Oh my God!_

'B'Elanna, this is Commander Troi. Listen to Commander Janeway. We have Tom out here right now and we will take care of him. You are safe now. Throw that thing in the disposal. It is sensitive and can go off. If you ingest it through breathing the vapor you will die! Don't take the chance, please!'

Torres was looking at the hypospray, being very careful to not activate the mechanism. 'But Tom would never hurt me! He said he loves me! And he loves Miral!'

'Lieutenant, this is Rear Admiral Wildman. He would kill you. He will. They are right. Listen to them. Don't do this. Think of your daughter! Think of Miral without her mother!'

Torres' mind was racing. Tom Paris wanted to kill her! So all of this was just an elaborate, twisted plot to murder her because of some Nexus fantasy of his about Max. This was so devious a plot. So coolly calculated and planned. It was definitely the product of a very sick mind.

'This is Doctor Beverly Crusher, B'Elanna. Tom Paris is psychotic and he is a proven killer. He killed people on Caldik Prime and then denied any wrong doing. And we have contacted the Orion. There is no ring in a grease pot in Engineering! It is a total fabrication of his and he made you think that by suggestion and using others to convey his message. Open the door now and come home. We have the security codes now that opened the door to the Delta Flyer. But it won't work without voice recognition. And he will not give up the key code to save us. Please! Listen to me!'

Torres was confused even more. 'Save us? From what?'

'This is Deanna Troi, B'Elanna. Tom is right, in a way. We now know that all of this is just a holodeck.'

'Are you saying Tom was correct? That this is just a holodeck?'

Troi spoke again. 'Yes. We were on a diplomatic mission to Antares X. Chief Pilot Tom Paris went nuts when we rescued him from Nexus after his shuttle got caught in there. We were treating him but he escaped into the ship and broke into Sickbay. You know he is medically trained. He flooded the place with Benzedrine and took over our minds. Then he reprogrammed everything and set up this holodeck. He is a master at creating holodeck programs. He even fooled you into shutting down the engines to keep us here and yes, we are near The Ribbon and Nexus. We are drifting towards it! With no outside comms and no one to help us! And why all of this? Because he wants you dead! But not by his hand!'

'But why? I've never harmed Tom Paris.'

The Betazoid psychiatrist now appeared on the viewer. 'It is because you turned him down when he proposed to you. He proposed to you at the Academy. You refused him and he has obsessed over it ever since.'

Torres looked at her wedding ring. But that was not possible! This was Tom's ring, the one he gave her. So he did replicate it! That bastard!

'B'Elanna, listen to me. You told him then that you were in love with Max Burke and had already accepted his proposal and were going to marry him. Then Tom found out after we rescued him that you had a child with Burke. Miral. Tom could not take any of this. He went even more insane and created this holodeck on Voyager. Then he just played out this story of his using all of us as pawns. He had only one purpose in mind. To have you kill yourself as the ultimate revenge. And thankfully we got to you before you did that. Come home, B'Elanna. Open the door before we have to cut you out of there.'

Torres stared at the console in front of her, the hypospray in her hand. Then she saw Tom outside the ship. He was being brutally beaten right in front of her. Other voices now came over the comms. 'Tell her, tell her it is all just a lie!' Tuvok was doing a mind meld on Paris, trying to open his mind.

Tom was in agony, fighting to stay in control but he was losing and B'Elanna knew it. Nothing could prevent Tuvok from probing his mind. 'No, it is the truth! B'Elanna, make it rain! For God sakes, use the hypospray! We are all going to die if you don't. We are nearing The Ribbon!'

This all came down to faith and B'Elanna knew that. But who could she trust? She trusted this ship. It had always taken care of her and held so many good if fuzzy memories. There was the Flight Engineer work station, the place where her fingers once flew in frenzy to put the warp core ejection command back online. She turned in the pilot's seat to regard the jump seat to portside, the one where a younger woman sat in stunned astonishment as a young man held her hand, looked into her eyes, and waited impatiently for her to answer a very important question. He was telling her to hurry because he might have to beg. 'Could be embarrassing,' he said. She smiled broadly; her body filling with warmth and happiness.

Her mind raced, looking for his name. Searching, her eyes were searching. But now she was searching for the name of the person who had always spoken the truth to her. Max, Miral, Tom, Chakotay. Even the EMH. All of their faces appeared but none of them could make her see and discover reality from illusion.

No. There was only one person. The one person she had always gone to and who was always there for her. Who cared for her like the sister she never had and who would talk to her and listen better than her father or even her mother ever did. Someone she shared her dreams with before getting married and had always given her sound advice.

Taking a leap of faith, she forced her troubled mind to gain just a modicum of control. The words she needed came back now, her Starfleet officer's discipline taking charge. Being within the Delta Flyer's familiar and comforting interior had a lot to do with her being able to do that. "Computer, this is Lieutenant Commander B'Elanna Torres of the USS Voyager. Verify voice."

"Voice recognized and verified."

"Place emergency priority call to Starfleet Headquarters, authorization Torres Beta Gamma Delta Six."

"Verified. Connecting to Starfleet Headquarters. State your party."

Her head was throbbing now and she rubbed her forehead ridges as voices screamed at her over another comms channel. "Rear…Admiral…Kath…ryn…Janeway, Deputy Chief of Staff for Starfleet Operations."

"Call placed. Directing, Priority One."

Tuvok was now insistent. 'Open the door, Torres. That is an order. You are not well. It won't matter what you do. We are cutting through the hull.'

 _Come on, Admiral! Where are you? Come on!_

'Janeway.'

 _Thank Kahless!_ 'Admiral, this is…Lieutenant…Commander…B'Elanna Torres. Who is my husband?'

At Starfleet Headquarters, Janeway was stunned, shifting uncomfortably in her seat as she motioned for her astonished aide to come over. 'B'Elanna! Is this really you? Where are you?'

'I think…I am…on Voyager. Not sure. Head hurts so much. Admiral, who…is my husband? This is…very important. Please…tell me.'

'One moment, B'Elanna.' Janeway turned to her aide. "Diane, contact Federation Marine Corps operations! Get General Prescott on the horn. Now! We finally have contact with Voyager!"

Turning back to her viewer, Janeway addressed Torres. 'B'Elanna, there is a battalion of Marines waiting outside Voyager but they can't get in. You are married to Tom Paris. Do you hear me? Tom is your husband and I should know more than anyone. I married you two, for God's sakes! I visited you in Sickbay after you gave birth to Miral in the Delta or Alpha Quadrant, we are not exactly sure. What is this all about?'

B'Elanna started crying, her shaking hands held up to her face. 'Rain. It is all about rain. Long story, Admiral. Tell you later. I love you! Tom and I love you so much! Thank you, Admiral. Oh God, thank you.'

Grabbing the hypospray, B'Elanna pushed it against her neck and activated the medication. She could feel the antidote go to work immediately and her mind cleared. Then through the front viewer she saw Tom lying in a heap on the ground and he was not moving. Everyone else had left, running for their lives because they knew what was coming next. Crusher had heard it all and shouted out the warning to get out of there.

Torres carefully opened the Flyer's access door and looked around. The coast clear, she ran over to her husband who was a bloody pulp. Carefully picking Tom up, she ever-so-gently carried him to the ship and then unceremoniously tossed him inside. She shrugged. He was out cold and didn't feel it anyway. After securing the door once more, she injected him.

Now the song came back to her right away and she knew what she had to say. What she had to tell the world so the force field would drop and the Marines could come aboard. "Computer, this is Lieutenant Commander B'Elanna Torres of the USS Voyager. Authorization Rain Robinson. I'm coming home."


	7. Epilogue

Epilogue

Fourteen months had passed since a battalion of Federation Marines stormed Voyager thanks to the efforts of Lieutenant Commander B'Elanna Torres. Fortunately, the assault was bloodless save for a few recalcitrant crewmen who suffered bruises and a few broken bones while resisting under the influence of Benzedrine. Once the holodeck program was overridden and disabled, the three hijackers were quickly located and arrested. The ship returned to Deep Space Nine under tow where it now lay in dry dock undergoing extensive repairs to remedy the damage the ship had received during its one year in space off the Veridian system.

It was now 0220 hours and a bleary-eyed and over-worked Starfleet Commander Tom Paris sat in his favorite black leather recliner holding his one-year-old son, Michael Owen Paris, in his lap. 'Daddy' had just finished singing Mikey a lullaby, 'Hush Little Baby.' Tom liked to sing this one to his son because it would promise him anything if he would just go to sleep. Tonight had been one of those nights and finally the latest addition to the Paris/Torres family was asleep.

B'Elanna had long put their daughter, Miral, to bed. Today was a school day and at age five the Paris/Torres rule for her was to be bed by 2000 hours, in pajamas with teeth brushed and hands and face washed. Miral used to complain but had given up on that long ago because Mom was the Rock of Gibraltar. But Daddy was a sucker and Miral knew she was her father's princess. Despite a complaining Mom, she occasionally got to stay up until 2100.

Sleepy herself after a long day working on an engine overhaul, Torres had grabbed two glasses of red wine from the kitchen and strode across the living room of their provided quarters, twenty floors up in the field-grade area of the Federation apartment complex. She set the glasses down on an end table and gently took a dead-to-the-world Michael from her beaming husband. "I'll feed him later. You did a nice job tonight, Sweetheart."

"Thanks." Tom waved a hand and looked at his PADD, going over the endless stream of messages that only a Starship First Officer would have. But he enjoyed that position with Captain Chakotay as his ship's captain. The two had been through a lot over the years, more recently the one year on a holodeck that nearly propelled them into Nexus. _Thank God for B'Elanna. She came through._ He was so fortunate to have married her.

His wife returned now wearing burgundy silk pajamas and jumped into his lap to play with his thinning blonde hair. "You are losing some ground up there, helmboy. Maybe you should see Doc Joe for some implants." She laughed because she loved him just as he was.

"Maybe. Honey, did you see the messages from Vice Admiral Janeway? Not the one about her promotion party this Friday night but about Soran? And the Duras sisters?"

B'Elanna nodded. "I did but didn't want to read them. They brought back some memories I would just rather forget about. I tend to put bad news in a mental file with the Delta Quadrant experience. The file marked 'hell.'"

He grunted. "Not all of it was that way. Although I have to admit that seven years of nearly dying everyday was something I do not want to experience again. But if it wasn't for the Caretaker we never would have met again and got married. But I know how you feel. After all, I was there with you." He squeezed her hand and she nuzzled his neck.

"I'm so glad you were, Sweetheart. Go ahead, Tom. Tell me about Soran and those two. You will keep bugging me until you do."

She knew him so well. "Okay. After so many legal battles, Soran was finally let out of prison and given a ship. An old freighter called 'Maid of the Stars.' Captain Denise Moretti towed it behind the USS Fortitude and then slingshot him into The Ribbon. He got what he wanted. And about eighty others went in with him, one a very skilled pilot who had lost it years ago when his family was killed in an accident. All of them were troubled people who had lost family or friends and just could not cope with reality anymore. Some were suicidal and destined for the mental colony. I wish to God they would close that place."

"Me too. But they'll be crushed!" B'Elanna looked horrified.

"Maybe. Maybe not." Tom shrugged his shoulders. "Nexus has stabilized and looks to be undertaking a self-repair. We know so little about this anomaly. In the meantime, Starfleet has put warning beacons around it and a patrol goes by periodically. We just don't know."

Tom's wife hugged him and then handed her husband some wine. They clinked glasses and drank. "He was desperate. Soran. So desperate." Suddenly she just hugged her husband hard. "Tom, I don't know if I can cope without you. If something were to happen…."

Voyager's First Officer stroked his wife's hair and ran his finger along her lips. "Shhhh. It's okay. Nothing is going to happen right now. No mission for eight months at least. Just me pushing a mountain of paper and you working on engines. Oh, I should not forget the Duras sisters. Admiral Janeway courtesy-copied a diplomatic note from Federation Ambassador Consigliore about them. They were extradited to Q'onoS two days ago. If they survive the Arena, they will have their honor restored."

Torres said nothing. The Arena was a place she never wanted to experience, participant or observer.

Now her husband turned her face to his so they were close enough to look into each other's eyes and taste their breath. He lightly kissed her lips and she responded. "I knew you could do it, B'Ella. I knew you would figure out the Flyer was the only thing you could trust. I knew it could not be me; I mean you love me and I know that. But I was so drugged that I did not know who I was half the time. I had to get you into that ship. And you went to it not because of me but because you knew what it means to us. It just grabbed you and took you to it. We built it. I proposed to you inside. You accepted there. We honeymooned in it. If anything would jog your memory, it was her. You trusted _her_ above anything alive. Because _she_ is us. And that ship allowed you to get to the one person who would tell you the absolute truth. Vice Admiral Janeway. She always took care of us, just like the Delta Flyer does. She did it again."

"There was ALICE, Tom. Not the best memory of our ship. I nearly lost you then."

"Yeah. But who opened my mind? Who was my alarm clock?"

She laughed. "Tick tock, BRINNNNNNG! Umm…Tom, Kathryn Janeway is very special. Like family. I mean, she is…like my older sister. I can't say it any other way." She sniffed and drank some wine.

"Yeah. You are right about that." He sipped some wine as well and thought of his parents, his father-in-law John Torres, and his own sisters and their families. It was so good to have seen them even for a week while undergoing physicals. "So what do you think about watching a holomovie? I can make some popcorn. The jalapeño kind you like."

B'Elanna moaned. She was relaxed and feeling so warm now. "Sounds good, Honey. We're both off tomorrow. What do you have in mind?" Now she snuggled deeper into her husband with her head resting upon his chest. His arms closed around her. She finished her wine, put her glass down, and purred like a cat.

"Well, there is this 2016 recently-restored film called 'Smoke and Mirrors.' Also known as 'El Hombre de las Mil Caras.' It is about a secret agent named Francisco Paesa who was working for the Spanish government and spying on Basque terrorists. But he gets framed and has to leave the country. He later comes home, totally broke and with his life in turmoil. When all looks bleak he gets some financial help from a crooked, former police commissioner if he will safeguard embezzled money, about twelve million dollars American. He uses trickery and illusion to actually steal that money and take revenge on the Spanish government. So it is actually about coming home, sort of like us. And it is much better to watch than I can describe it, B'Elanna. What do you say, Bea? Honey?"

He looked at his wife. She was sound asleep.


End file.
